


A Dog's Life

by magnumopustron



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Depression, Extremely Dubious Consent, Gaslighting, Hurt Steve Rogers, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Multi, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Past Abuse, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Rape Recovery, Sam Wilson Human Honeybun, Sexual Trauma Made Public, Stucky - Freeform, media
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2018-05-12 11:41:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 41,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5664817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnumopustron/pseuds/magnumopustron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve made a big mistake and trusted the wrong people with the most vulnerable parts of himself. Now it's time to face the consequences. Hopefully Sam and the Avengers can help mitigate the damage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Ugly Truth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daphnomancy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daphnomancy/gifts).



> This was inspired by daphomancy's delightfully twisted [Do You Let Your Pets Sleep on the Bed?](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5127461) This is an unofficial companion piece for that, sort of a 'kiss it make it better' deal. We all know I love my hurt and comfort. 
> 
> You don't have to read it to get what's going on here, but if you like kinky porn and you like Hydra Husbands, it might just be your thing. Please heed the warnings for that fic and for this one, though!

  
It had been two months since the events the media had taken to calling the Hydra Uprising.

Two months since he'd become Everything-is-Fine Steve Rogers. Well, to be honest, Sam was pretty damn sure Steve had _always_ been Steven 'Everything is Fine' Rogers.

Maybe it was the fact that he came from the 1940s, but it didn't seem like Steve actually had healthy ideas about... well, mental health. To be fair, the mental health system hadn't exactly been _healthy_ back in those days. Steve would talk about Bucky Barnes, about the assassin his friend had become, about his hopes to find him. He would even talk about the man he used to be. He would share those thoughts with Sam and sometimes even Natasha when she was around.

But he rarely ever shared about his _feelings_ and Sam had always gotten the feeling there was much more below the surface.

 

Which is why when Sam Wilson came home early from the run that he'd decided to let Steve sleep in on – their latest foray into Hydra intel had been pretty rough – and walked in on the scene in the living room, he wasn't sure what to do.

The tv was on, showing what Sam saw out of the corner of his eyes as a news anchor woman. Steve was on his knees, the coffee table broken in half before him, his face bright red, his hands gripping his hair. On his face was a look of absolute distress and he was gasping as if he couldn't get enough air. His eyes were staring at the screen and Sam froze when he saw they were full of tears.

“Steve?” Sam still had the door to the place they were sharing open behind him.

They'd fled from DC of course – both needed to lie low, after all. Sam had managed to get time off from counseling, a few months in order to help Steve hunt down his best friend. They were currently renting an apartment. Sam had a feeling Stark had brought the property just to make sure the apartments nearest to theirs were empty. It was both terrifying and thoughtful in Sam's opinion.

But nothing terrified him as much as the sight before him. Steve didn't even respond. He seemed to note Sam's presence but his eyes remained on the screen and he let out a sob. His knuckles, Sam noticed, were bloodied, especially the knuckles of his right hand. Glancing to the thick, wood coffee table, he realized Steve must have punched it in half.

“Steve?” Sam slowly stepped closer. He turned to look at the screen and that was when Steve leapt up from the couch.

Sam often forgot how fast Steve was, despite seeing the man's version of a 'jog' on a regular basis and being left in the dust. Steve was now holding him against the wall beside the tv, staring into his face and for a moment, he had to suppress the urge to panic and fight.

“Sam,” he whispered. He was sniffling and blinking as if trying to fight the tears that had already streaked down his face. “It-it-it's fine.” His lips pulled into the weakest smile Sam had ever seen on the blond's face. “It's fine. It's nothing. I'm... I'm sorry about the coffee table,” he coughed and let out what he must have thought was a laugh.

Then Steve was releasing him and grabbing the remote, turning the tv off. “It's fine.”

“Steve...”

The blond dropped the remote down on the broken coffee table and moved past him quickly into the kitchen. As Sam watched, baffled, the taller man washed the few dishes lined up by the sink by hand, then dried them off and put them away.

“I'm okay. I just had a moment. That's all.” He was muttering to himself. Then he stopped and stared into the open cabinet for a moment, where he'd just placed a bowl.

“It's okay,” he said when he apparently remembered he'd been talking to Sam and looked at him. Steve bit his lower lip, then quickly forced another small smile. It didn't match his eyes and it was painful to see.

Sam had never seen anyone smile as beautifully as Steve could, except maybe his own mom. But he'd never seen the sort of pain in his mom's eyes that he did in Steve's now. Not even when the captain first looked at the file that Natasha Romanoff gave him about his friend Barnes and what Hydra had done to him... Then he had just looked lost, almost defeated.

Now he looked desperate.

Once, Sam had been to an animal shelter with his nephew Jody. The kid loved dogs and he desperately wanted one, so Sam's sister agreed to let Jody's uncle take him to look at some. Sam still remembered one dog, in a crate and how it had sat in the back corner of its cage. Jody had looked curiously at it, as if wondering why it wouldn't come see him. It was a German shepherd.

“Oh that's a cool dog!” he'd called to it. “C'mere, doggy!”

The dog had merely stared at him over its shoulder, ears flattening. Sam still remembered the look in its eyes as the woman working at the shelter gently explained that that particular dog wasn't ready for adoption. She'd quietly clarified to Sam that it hadn't been treated very well by its previous owner.

Sam still remembered the look in the dog's eyes.

He'd just never seen that look in a person's eyes before. In all his time as a counselor, he thought he'd seen desperation – the carefully closed off look that some veterans had when they first came home or the pain in their eyes when they broke down during a therapy session. But never like this, never this _fearful_.

“Sam,” Steve said and it was like he couldn't keep still the way his hands rested on the counter. Steve blinked and looked back at the open cabinet door, closing it with a sheepish smile to Sam. “I hope you-”

They both froze at the sound of something. Reveille. Steve's phone. The blond blinked and his face flushed. His lips were parted and his eyes seemed to dart from Sam to the phone.

“Excuse me,” he flashed another painful, brief smile at Sam, then hurried into the living room. Sam turned to watch him fumble around on the floor, then under the couch. He pulled his cell phone out from under it and brushed his thumb over it frantically. Then he held it to his ear slowly, still on his knees, resting back on his heels.

“Yes?”

Sam watched, silently, as Steve's eyes stared over the broken coffee table, unseeing.

“Yeah. I saw.” His voice was incredibly soft, softer than Sam ever recalled hearing it. He glanced toward the tv, then back to Steve who seemed to be barely breathing, just listening.

“I'm fine,” the brief smile returned and his eyes still stared off as he shook his head slightly. “No, no. Don't. Sam's here. I'll be fine. Please, don't worry.”

Sam felt a throb of pain and realized he was clenching his teeth. His heart was still beating fast from when Steve had held him against the wall.

“No,” Steve was frowning now, some of his old color coming back as he cleared his throat. “No, Natasha. You're busy. This is nothing.”

Sam could practically hear her raising her voice on the other end of the line and winced. She wasn't the type to scream but she could be forceful.

What the actual fuck was going on? And why had no one thought-

He felt his own phone buzz in his pocket and both he and Steve looked down at his pants pocket at the same time. Steve's blue eyes were on him now, staring, flat.

It was like Steve had never seen him before. Sam realized he wasn't even paying attention to the phone he was holding anymore.

Sam slowly reached into his pocket and slid his phone out, his own dark eyes on Steve's, questioning. Something shifted in the other man's blue eyes and he swallowed. It was that dog look again, almost pleading in its intensity.

Sam looked down at his phone.

“Yeah, I'm still here,” Steve's voice sounded rusty. “I'm telling you, Nat- Yes. He's right here. Okay. Okay.”

Steve held out his phone just as Sam saw the text message he'd just gotten from Pepper Potts. It wasn't like he and Ms Potts were friends, even if the woman had been polite to him and he'd been welcomed almost as an auxiliary member of the Avengers.

'Are you home right now?' The text read. He felt a chill down his spine as he looked into Steve's eyes again.

“She wants to... talk to you,” Steve forced another small smile, a shoulder rising in a shrug as if he had no idea what on Earth Natasha Romanoff could possibly want with Sam.

Sam hoped to God Natasha would be merciful enough to tell him what the _fuck was going on already_.

Sam stepped closer and took the phone while Steve's blue eyes stayed on his. He could have sworn the blond would just crumple at the slightest breeze.

Sam had seen Steve Rogers down before. He'd seen the man fight back tears, turn his back to hide his face away. He'd seen his friend's great shoulders sink down, seen his blue eyes gaze off, despondent.

But he'd never seen him cringe before. As if he was powerless before Sam. As if he was waiting for Sam to strike out at him. 

“Hello?” he tried to put as much of his 'please tell me what is going on' tone as he could into the greeting. Fortunately, Natasha seemed to get it.

“You have no idea, do you?”

“No...” he decided not to upset Steve. The blond was blinking away and looking down now, staring at the coffee table as if he just now remembered it existed. Sam took in the paleness of the man's skin, the way his cheeks and neck flushed, the way Steve's eyes suddenly seemed to want to look everywhere else.

“God,” she breathed. “How do I say this?”

“Just do,” he said and Steve was glancing up at him, then away again. The blond shifted slowly and pulled himself back up onto the couch, then sat on the edge, his hands slowly moving to rest on his legs. He continued to stare down at the coffee table.

“There are photos of Rogers all over the internet. Very _compromising_ photos that I'm going to have to ask you not to look at for your sake and Rogers's.”

Jesus fucking Christ. Sam tried not to react.

“Okay,” he felt pretty proud of how calm his voice came out. “What uh...”

“You don't want to know. I'm not even sure if they're legitimate yet and I doubt I'll be able to get anything out of Rogers in the state he's in. I'm right, aren't I?”

He looked up at Steve who was watching him again. The blue eyes blinked away, then back up.

“No. I don't think so.” Sam tried to stretch his lips in a little smile of reassurance but it just seemed to make Steve sink in on himself even further.

“You need to get him to talk about this,” Natasha said. Sam blinked and let out a breath.

“Okay... What is _this_ exactly?”

“I'm not exactly sure. But it doesn't look good and the media is having a fucking world cup with it. You need to find out if the pictures are legitimate – in his own words. And you need to find out what the circumstances were behind them because I'm thinking...” Natasha sighed. “I'm thinking there was coercion involved. Knowing Steve and how... naïve he can be...”

Jesus.

Sam turns away to look at the wall. “Okay.” Even as he said it there was a part of him – that he was ashamed of – that whispered 'Steve Rogers assaulted? But he's built like a tank. How would he ever end up in that position...'

“Can you do this?”

“Yeah,” he breathed in slowly and nodded. “Yes. I will. Don't worry.”

Natasha seemed to take him at his word. “And don't let Stark text or call Steve – just keep his phone, actually. Don't let him see the tv. Is it on?”

“No, it's not.” He was keenly aware of Steve trying to pretend he wasn't listening as he sat on the couch, probably internally freaking out.

Dear fucking God, _probably?_ He was definitely internally _dying_ right now.

Steve, his friend Steve, in pictures on the internet. _Compromising_ pictures.

'I'm thinking there was coercion involved. Knowing Steve...'

Jesus. Well thank God for Natasha.

“Good. Unplug it, throw it out the window, whatever you have to do.”

Sam turned at the sound Steve made in his throat. The man had his face in his hands and he was rocking slightly on the edge of the couch.

“Wilson?”

“I gotta go.”

“Is he okay?”

“He's... as can be expected. I'll call you back, okay?”

“Thirty minutes?” she said hopefully.

“Yeah. I'll call you. Oh, and can you call Pepper Potts? She texted me." 

"I'll call her." Natasha said and hung up. 

 

“Steve?” he lowered the phone. He tried to make sure his demeanor was calm, his eyes carefully neutral. He raised an eyebrow.

“Hey, man?” He didn't even know what to say next. He was a fucking counselor and he had no idea...

Sam had read about sexual trauma, talked to survivors of all kinds of abuse and torture, but he wasn't certified in it. He was certified in dealing with soldiers who had PTSD, of which Steve had definitely exhibited signs of in the past. But Sam had never expected Steve to be dealing with PTSD from sexual trauma.

It wasn't like he was naïve. He knew that men were assaulted, particularly men in the military. It was a grim reality. But Steve hadn't been assaulted by fellow... oh God, _had_ he?

Oh God... what if this had to do with Hydra? They'd had agents among the STRIKE...

Sam's stomach twisted and he schooled his expression as Steve finally looked up at him.

The blonde's face was bright red and he sniffed, wiping at his face quickly with his hands. He forced a weak smile up at Sam.

“Sorry,” he said, blinking and looking away. “Just um... I think...” He blinked and stared toward the door. “I think I've really fucked things up,” he let out a weak laugh.

Then his face was crumpling again and he was clenching his teeth painfully, turning his face away from Sam.

“I'm so sorry,” he whispered.

 

Sam went into the kitchen and poured two tall glasses of water. He briefly rested Steve's phone on the counter in the kitchen, then thought better of it and put it in his empty pocket, opposite the one that held his own phone. Then he moved over to the couch and was about to ask if he could sit, when he realized how it might come off and just plopped down, still giving Steve the usual amount of space. He was about to set the glasses down on the coffee table but instead gave it a helpless glance and handed one to Steve. 

Steve wiped at his face quickly again, still turned partially away from Sam. He did take the glass of water though. 

“Natasha told me there's some pictures on the internet.”

“Oh... just some?” Steve let out a weak laugh. “I think there's probably...” he fell silent, wiping at his face again. “This is all my fault.”

Sam took a deep breath. “I need you to do something for me, okay Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you sit back? Just scoot back a little?”

Steve froze. His fingers dug into the fabric of his pantlegs and for a moment Sam thought he would refuse. But then he shifted back into the couch, slowly, as if at any moment he might startle and flee the room.

“Now lean back and take a deep breath.”

In increments almost painful to watch, Steve leaned back into the sofa. He kept his eyes lowered and away from Sam, but the other man got the feeling he was being closely watched. It made something within him twinge. Steve slowly breathed in, then exhaled.

“Good. Just keep taking some deep breaths, okay?”

Steve nodded after a moment. “Sure.” His lips twitched briefly at one corner and he was breathing slowly, in and out.

"Why don't you go ahead and take a sip of water? 

Steve didn't say anything for a moment. Then he nodded.

Steve glanced up at him for the briefest of moments, then looked away as he slowly began to sip. His hand trembled slightly on the glass.

Sam sat back in his own spot and drank heavily from his own glass. He let Steve drink for a bit, until more than half the glass was gone, then he spoke.

“Is it okay if I ask you some questions?”

Steve closed his eyes and his head lowered. He nodded.

“You don't have to answer them right now.”

'But you do have to answer them at some point,' was implied and Sam really hated it but he needed to find out.

Fuck that. First he needed to take care of Steve. Natasha and even Pepper Potts could wait.

He'd never seen the other man so fragile, and it hurt.

'This isn't about you,' he reminded himself. 'Put your own feelings aside and pay attention.'

He looked evenly at Steve who, to his surprise, finally lifted his eyes and looked back. It was brief and he kept glancing away, but he seemed determined to pay Sam whatever respect he seemed to think necessary for the situation. Sam's lips stretched in a small, grim smile.

“Go ahead,” Steve said, then looked down again, this time at his own knee.

“These pictures online – are they of a sexual nature?”

Steve's face flushed and for a moment he looked puzzled. His lips worked quietly. Then he nodded, barely glancing up at Sam and then away.

“Yes.”

Sam bit his lower lip in thought.

“Are there only pictures or are there videos too?”

Steve closed his eyes. “There's only pictures online right now.”

Fuck. Oh fuck, fuck.

“There are videos out there somewhere.”

Steve nodded, biting his lip again. Then he quickly pulled it from between his teeth. His eyes were still down but raced over the coffee table and Sam knew he wasn't really seeing anything in the room. He wanted to put a hand on his friend's shoulder, offer comfort, but he had to proceed carefully.

“I need to ask you some questions that are gonna be really hard to answer. Is that okay?”

Steve let out a weak laugh. He blinked several times and looked up at the ceiling. Then he nodded.

“Yeah.”

“Were these pictures of consensual interactions?”

Steve blinked. Then he nodded stiffly. His face was heating up again and Sam watched as his ears and neck grew pink too.

“Yes,” he glanced to Sam briefly as he nodded. “It was. It was all... consensual.”

“Are you sure?”

Steve looked up at him as if in surprise. His eyes glanced away and back again. Then he frowned.

“Yeah. Why wouldn't I be sure?” he let out a soft laugh and his lips curled at one corner. “It was... it was consensual.” He looked away, down at the table.

“Okay. I just wanted to make sure.”

He watched as the blond stiffened and his face turned away again.

“You... you must be disgusted.”

“Why would I be disgusted?”

Steve looked up at him, brows furrowing in puzzlement.

“I... How much did Natasha tell you?”

Sam exhaled softly. “She told me that there were pictures of you online,” he kept his gaze neutral as he studied Steve. Their eyes were meeting finally for more than a few seconds at a time though Steve continued to look away briefly. “And that they were compromising. That they were of a sexual nature. And that... she thinks you may have been coerced into things.”

“Things?” Steve said wryly, eyes filling with a strange disbelief.

Sam shrugged a shoulder.

Steve's eyes grew cold, almost hard, and he looked away.

“I wasn't... _raped_.”

“Okay.” Sam nodded, even while a voice in his head whispered 'Bullshit.' He didn't know why, he just... Maybe it was because he was a counselor. He just knew when he was being bullshitted. And Steve hardly had the best poker face. There was something very off about all the tension in his body.

Sam had the unpleasant feeling, the same one he'd gotten from looking at the file Natasha gave Steve at Fury's grave, that he was about to learn a whole lot more than he really wanted to know about 'things.'

It turned out that he had no idea what he was about to discover.

* * *

 

Steve sort of clammed up after that so Sam let the blond take the glasses back to the kitchen and watched as he fled quickly to his own room. The silence was almost stony, as if he was affronted.

Sam let out a breath and rolled his eyes when Steve had left, letting his head fall back against the back of the sofa. He tried to consider what he'd seen.

A smashed coffee table. Steve quickly turning the tv off. Steve pretending to clean in the kitchen. Steve pretending in general to be 'just fine.'

Natasha's unusually harried tone on the phone. Not just harried but distressed.

He needed to get some idea of what was in the pictures because he was not getting the full story here. He could tell that much.

Annoyed, he called Natasha back.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

“How'd it go?”

“He says it was consensual,” Sam glanced toward the hall and the bedroom doors. That super soldier hearing.

“I think he's lying.”

He closed his eyes. “I don't have the full story here, do I?”

“No, you really don't. But I'm not sure-”

“I need to know what kind of sensitive these pictures are.”

She huffed. “Sensitive is not the word I would use.”

“Can you give me some kind of... idea why you think this would not be consensual?”

“When I first met Rogers at SHIELD, he had no one. Except maybe Coulson. Someone got to him. They got under his skin and he...” she sighed. “It's possible it was a member of the STRIKE team. I have my suspicions.”

Fuck.

“Which member?”

“Possibly more than one.”

_Fuck!_

“More than one?” Sam barely breathed into the phone as he glanced to the hallway again. He kept expecting to see Steve giving him that disapproving look. He'd probably jump out of his own skin if the blond appeared. A shudder traveled up his spine when he recalled how quickly Steve had moved to push him away from the line of sight of the tv.

'Take a deep breath and calm down.'

“I'm not entirely sure. Like I said, I have my suspicions. I had this idea that Steve might have been dating one of them at some point. In secret.”

“How do you know?”

“Wilson. It's Steve.”

He couldn't help the small quirk at the corner of one of his lips. But then the gravity of the situation settled back in. “All right. So you wouldn't describe them as sensitive-”

“I would probably go with highly sensitive, but obscene is the word the media is using.”

Oh shit.

“Do these photos...”

“Oh Jesus. Hold on...”

“What?”

“I'm going to text you one. It's one of the milder ones.”

“I don't think...” 'I want that on my phone,' he was about to say. He wanted to ask why she had any of them on her phone but she could just have them pulled up in a browser.

Good God.

His phone buzzed and he opened the message. His mouth went completely dry as he took in the picture and his heart rate picked up.

Steve was curled up on his side, apparently under a desk, wearing a collar and nothing else. He seemed to be lying on a blanket, like a cat. His eyes were closed in the picture.

As soon as Sam could get his brain to start properly functioning again, he quickly deleted the picture and held the phone to his ear.

“Okay. I think I'm getting an idea.”

“Are you turned on?” she sounded amused.

“Are you...” he had to stop himself and he took a deep breath, glancing toward the hallway. “Are you serious, right now? Really?”

“I didn't figure you for the kinky type, Wilson-”

“Natasha,” he closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose. Lord God have mercy.

“Unfortunately, looking at the shoes in the picture I have a pretty good idea who one of them might be.”

Sam frowned. He didn't recall shoes in the picture. He'd already deleted it so he couldn't look now – and he was very glad to have deleted it because he _really did not need that on his phone_.

He decided not to ask. If Steve wanted to tell him...

He glanced toward the hallway.

“Hydra?”

“Yes.”

He closed his eyes and mentally cursed. Of all the men in the world, Steve Rogers had to walk into the hands of some fucking jackass neo Nazi. He remembered the idiot he fought in the Triskellion before the helicarrier crashed into it. He still felt relief whenever he thought about that stupid bastard being buried under piles of concrete.

_'Order is pain. You ready for yours?'_

His stomach twisted as he thought of the pictures.

“He said there might be videos.”

“What...” she seemed unable to speak for a moment. “Jesus. Are they online?”

“Not yet. According to him.”

She cursed in Russian. “Wilson... “

“I know. I'm stayin' right here.”

For several moments she was silent. “Thank you,” she finally said. “I'm going to dig, see what I can find. If I can trace these...” she sighed. “JARVIS is already doing what he can to clamp down on this. It's a long shot but I might be able to use the pictures to find whoever is responsible for leaking this. I already called Potts, by the way. Told her you were talking to Steve.”

“I can call her.”

“No, I'll take care of it. Focus on Steve.”

“Sure thing.”

“Do you need anything? I can bring dinner or...”

“I don't know if he's... in the mood to socialize right now,” Sam glanced back down the hall but Steve's door was still closed.

“Right. Well if you need anything, let me know.”

“I hear you.”

“Thank you. Again.”

“It's fine. He's my friend too.”

“I know,” it sounded like she was smiling the slightest bit. “I have to go. But I'll call you again soon.”

“Take care.”

“You too.”

 

He sighed, sitting on the sofa and regarding the tv. He looked at the broken coffee table. Then he hauled himself up and...

He looked at his phone in his hand. God, but he was tempted to open a browser window and just...

For a moment, Sam examined his own impulse uncomfortably. Just morbid curiosity? Or was he wanting to see more of Steve Rogers?

His stomach twisted. There were people all over the world seeing plenty of Steve now. Steve, curled up naked under a desk wearing a collar. Sam could barely banish the image from his mind. He'd never imagined Steve Rogers would be into that kind of thing – making himself small and defenseless. Not only into men, but _submitting_ to them.

He could understand it in a way. He'd studied psychology after all, and he happened to have some preferences of his own. Natasha wasn't far off the mark when she'd teased him about being kinky. Looking back he saw now that she'd probably been testing to see if he was suitable to take care of Steve in his current position. It didn't bother him. He knew she trusted him to help Steve, to protect him, but she didn't know him very well. If anything, he appreciated that she was looking out for the blond.

He definitely needed it, Sam thought bitterly.

 

 

 


	2. A Glimmer of the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve returns to his apartment after he finally gets out of the hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is kind of a snippet from the past; it backtracks to where Steve was released from the hospital after the Hydra Uprising.

**March 2014**

**(Four days after the Hydra Uprising)**

 

Something was off and Steve knew it.

He didn't know it in any way that he could say, specifically, _what_ was off, but he knew that _something_ was off.

As he stood in the doorway of his apartment, the first time he'd returned to it after the _incident –_ a funny and rather innocuous word for such a world shattering event in a man's already bizarre life – and let the silence wash over him, he found himself remembering something that happened when he was a kid.

His mother had a picture on the wall for the longest time – just this little painting of Ireland, probably the only thing she'd brought with her from her old country. It was a painting of a little house on a hill, one that she'd seen all the time as a girl in her village. There was a gentle slope with a little house on it and beyond that, the thin line of the sea on the horizon. She didn't know the people who lived there very well, she just liked the house. The painting was a gift from a girlhood friend before Sarah left Ireland.

It had been hanging on the wall of their living room directly across from the door for as long as Steve could remember. Probably since he was born.

Then one day he walked in, a little sweaty from playing outdoors – this was just before he met Bucky – tossing a ball around with a stray dog he'd sort of taken under his wing, when he walked right through the living room, into the kitchen and then stopped. His mother was at the sink, washing some dishes when she looked behind her and smiled at his puzzled expression.

“What's wrong, love?”

Steve just frowned and walked back into the living room. He stared up at the wall where the painting was gone, leaving behind a lighter colored square on the wallpaper. His jaw dropped. Then he hurried back to the kitchen doorway and stared at his mother. She'd laughed at his expression.

“I've still got the painting. The frame just fell and broke, love, that's all.” She'd wiped her hands on her apron and gestured him closer. “Don't look so devastated!”

She'd given him a hug and brushed a hand over his cheek, then Steve had been smiling and laughing too.

But for a moment, just that picture being gone had been enough to rock his eight year old world.

 

Now something was different and he couldn't put his finger on it.

There were a lot of things that were different, sure. It was as if everything Steve had come to know and accept as reality in the past two years had once again been turned on its head.

Hydra wasn't dead, it was alive and living inside of SHIELD. Arnim Zola was alive or had been, if only as a computer. Alexander Pierce, undersecretary to the World Security Council and now deceased, was the leader of Hydra within SHIELD – and who knew how many other 'heads' of Hydra there were out there. Steve, Natasha Romanoff, and a handful of other people loyal to SHIELD had been forced to tear their own agency apart in the hopes of stopping Project Insight from giving Hydra leverage over the entire world.

Perhaps the change that had him reeling the most was that the man he'd thought was dead – his best friend – was also still alive.

Bucky Barnes didn't remember Steve or even his own name. He was a brainwashed assassin with a metal arm and he was currently at large. Steve had to fight his own best friend – had nearly been killed by him – to keep millions of people from being murdered.

So yes, a lot of things were 'off' lately.

But there was one thing in particular that was just... wrong. 

And now that he was here, in his apartment again, finally alone for the first time since the chaos all started with Nick Fury showing up in his apartment, he was forced to face what had been bothering him. 

Steve had begun to have what he first thought were daydreams of some kind over the past two weeks. But they were more like odd fragments of memories; moments where he'd been joking with someone or laughing about something, thanking someone for a gift, curling up to another warm body.

Some of them were like nightmares. And perhaps if they weren't so disturbing he might have been able to talk about them with someone.

Did people have _nightmares_ about _sex?_

Sometimes he found himself flushing brightly at the memory of something invading his body, some forgotten swell of pleasure making his skin prickle.

Memories weren't neat but neither were daydreams. Daydreams at least had a little more... lucidity to them. But Steve was having trouble deciding if these were actually memories or if they were just bizarre dreams he'd forgotten about.

The worst part was, that like that painting, there were obvious gaps where there should have been evidence to settle the matter one way or another.

Like all of the pages that were ripped out of his diary. Steve didn't really keep a serious diary, but he did usually write a line or two on occasion, just something to try and anchor himself in the present. In the future – damn it, the present, each day just felt like the one before it. He could remember the Chitauri and moving out to DC, of course, just like he could recall having gone on a mission to Ukraine at some point.

With... Rumlow? And Romanoff.

That was what bothered him the most. He had vague memories of the past year but they were like... blurred memories from when he was a child, or like memories from during the war which hadn't been that long ago for Steve but were becoming more blurry day by day. He would assume it was just the passage of time taking it's normal toll on a memory.

But Steve Rogers was not normal. He was enhanced. There was no reason for him to be able to clearly recall a conversation from Germany in 1943 and to not be able to recall what he'd done for Christmas a few months prior.

Who had he spent Christmas Eve with? It seemed like something he should be able to recall fairly easily.

With the Avengers... right? Or no, that was after the Chitauri. Tony Stark had some Christmas thing every year.

But when he went to look in his diary, that page was missing. In fact, a lot of pages were missing. The strangest thing was that someone had clearly bothered – when he stretched the book open, he could see this – to tear the pages out down near the root. As if he somehow wouldn't notice that the preprinted dated pages skipped _a week_.

Who gave him this diary anyway? Natasha, right?

For some strange reason he thought it might be Bruce. It seemed like something kind that Bruce would do for a man who found himself strangely out of time.

_'You are out of time.'_

He shuddered at the memory of the words. They took him back to a dark basement beneath Camp Leigh, Natasha at his side – the growing sensation of horror in his chest as everything spiraled out of control. Then again it had never really been under his control, had it? He'd been a puppet dancing to someone else's tune all along and it was just now that the backdrop was being pulled away to reveal the truth.

It was a beautiful spring day outside of his apartment and he could hear birds chirping. Steve took a deep breath.

The birds and the lovely spring day reminded him that he needed to _pack up_ and _get on with his life_. He had a 'missing person' to find.

Still...

He went to the record player in his living room – the same one that Nick Fury had been playing a record on before he was shot. It was off now, and unplugged. The movers would come for it later.

Steve kneeled and using a tiny screwdriver began to ply a piece of wood panel covering the back of it off. Tucked inside was an envelope with several papers.

He breathed out a sigh of relief and took the envelope out. It was thick and unsealed, but with a glance inside, he could see that all of the yellowed papers were still there.

Letters.

For a moment he simply held them and breathed in their age. No one had found this. His apartment might have been bugged, but neither SHIELD nor Hydra had been able to lay claim to these. Not since Steve had been out of the ice.

These particular papers had been given to him by Peggy Carter herself when Steve first visited her. They'd been in her possession all that time.

They were probably the only thing left in his life that hadn't been tainted by the shadow Hydra cast over everything.

He wanted to slip them out of their envelope, to sit on his floor, to just read through each one and remember. But instead he swallowed against the lump in his throat and tucked them under his jacket.

Later. Later, he could torment himself and reminisce.

As he stood from the floor, he nearly swayed when he found himself in another room entirely.

“There we go,” someone was saying – a grizzled, rough voice. A calloused palm was rubbing against the back of his neck. His arms were tied behind his back and he felt relieved to be lifted from the hard wood. There was something buried inside of him and the ropes stretched down there to tie around his sex. He was achingly hard. “You've been such a good boy, huh?”

Maybe now they would-

He shook his head and gasped, moving to lean against the wall. There was a shelf between his doorway and the living room, several records and knicknacks placed on it and he nearly locked some of them off as he leaned into it.

He'd hidden behind this shelf with Fury's body after he was shot... After Bucky shot him. Shot through Steve's apartment wall and...

He swallowed and shook his head again.

When he felt that he could move again without falling over, he replaced the panel on the back of the old victrola then went to his room. He needed to move quickly. There was no telling how long it would be before the media got wind of where he lived.

He tossed some clothes and socks into a bag. It was strange – after his days on the run and his time spent recuperating in the hospital, he almost felt like he was handling clothes from someone else's life.

A stranger's things. He looked around the apartment and realized just how sparse it was, compared to, say, Sam's house.

A life unlived.

He shook his head, trying to dispell the empty feeling that kept wanting to settle over his shoulders these days like a shroud. He'd become used to it during his time in D.C but now...

'What's changed?' some naïve voice in his head whispered and he let out a soft laugh. Shaking his head, he refocused, finishing packing his clothes and then moving on to tossing his personal effects into moving boxes. Tony Stark had already hired a trustworthy moving company to handle his things and they would be moving them – under a false name – to Stark Tower.

He began to toss other things into boxes, wincing when he heard something crack. With a grimace, Steve lifted out the last thing he'd tossed in, then something under it.

The glass had cracked, but under it was the photo of his mother and father. Probably the only photo of her that remained aside from one at the Smithsonian. He grimaced anew as he remembered the stolen uniform. He'd have to write them an apology letter or something-

That was when he broke into laughter and couldn't stop for almost a minute. What finally stopped his laughter was the memory of what that uniform had been used to do.

Perhaps, if he was being honest with himself, he had used it simply because he'd hoped it would jar Bucky out of his state. But now, Steve was forced to realize with a bitter twist of his lips that there was no state. Bucky just _was_.

'He's not the Winter Soldier. He has a name.'

With a sigh, he gently set the framed picture back into the box. For a moment, he had the bizarre idea of tossing everything into a trashcan and throwing a match in after it.

It was sort of how he'd felt packing up his things after Erskine's death. As if that life had belonged to someone else – a total stranger or a dead relative, maybe – and now he had to move on and find a new way to be... whatever it was that he was.

He knew it was melodramatic.

'You're so dramatic,' she said and laughed. He smiled a little at the memory. Maybe... No. He couldn't visit her right now. He'd be drawing attention and if the media noticed, she and her family would be harrassed-

'Her family. A husband and children, grandchildren. Why can't you just let go of her? Why can't you just let her live her life in peace? You don't belong in her world anymore. You're nothing but a ghost now.'

'- a man out of time.'

He took a deep breath, settling his hands on the wall and closing his eyes. Focus. He needed to focus on here and now.

Steve stuffed his records into a box along with some of his books. The rest of his books he'd just leave – he didn't really like most of them to be honest. Some were gifts from people. One of them was a gift from Alexander Pierce, actually which was bound to be funny at some point in the future. Steve just couldn't laugh about it now.

He resisted the urge to see the inscription the bastard wrote. Wasn't it better if he didn't remember?

He found the one with the inscription from Coulson and smiled a little, then stuck that into a box – _Legacy of Ashes: A History of the CIA._ Coulson had promised he would find it amusing and Steve had if only for how godawful some of it was. He found himself chuckling as he remembered reading some of it aloud to someone. Who had that been? Natasha... and Clint. Early on in his days with SHIELD.

Why hadn't he spent more time with them?

Granted, everyone was busy, but why had he spent so much time with...

He froze, holding a book in his hand and staring down at the pages, unseeing.

Wait.

_What?_

Blinking, he set the book back down on the shelf, then pulled out his cellphone.

There had to be ways to tell. There had to be more things that would be _off._

His fingers flew over the screen, unthinking, as his mind whirled. Old text messages, right? He opened his messages and scrolled down but didn't see anything from older than a month before.

There were no texts from Brock Rumlow.

And yet, Steve knew, he knew somehow without a shadow of a doubt that he'd... he'd gone for drinks with Rumlow? Or the rest of the STRIKE team? At some point, right? They must have...

But there were no texts from Brock Rumlow or Jack Rollins or any other members of the STRIKE team.

Fine. Maybe he deleted his old messages. There had to be a way – Natasha had warned him once that anything he put in a text message or on the internet would be there forever. Maybe he just had to call the phone company?

His mind continued to race as he scrolled through his phone. Gallery. Gallery! Pictures, of course!

Steve was always taking pictures on his phone, ever since he'd first gotten it. He'd had this phone for... well he must have had it at least a year! He'd broken the first one SHIELD gave him, sure, but-

He looked through the gallery but he couldn't find any pictures older than a month. There was a picture of Sam jogging behind him – Steve remembered laughing as he left the other man in the dust, jogging backwards while he took his picture. Then there was a picture of Natasha and Clint, with their arms around eachother's shoulders. There were a handful of other pictures – a statue in D.C he'd seen in a garden, a particularly beautiful tree in autumn-

Wait. Autumn!

He opened the picture of the tree, its leaves a fiery red and stared at it. He remembered this.

He was in a car at the time it was taken. He was positive of that. He'd been sitting in... the passenger seat of a car. An SUV?

Who was driving when he took the picture?

Steve sighed. That was when he had another idea.

The contacts. Surely Rumlow was under his contacts. Rumlow or one of the other members of the STRIKE team, but damn it they just _weren't there_.

Steve had absolutely no proof that he'd hung out with Brock Rumlow and the rest of the STRIKE team outside of work and yet he felt almost positive...

He thought of the look Rumlow gave him in the elevator. Of the memory it had triggered. The strange sensation that they were closer, that they _should_ be closer.

The confusion as Rumlow sneered at him. The way his gold-hazel eyes burned through Steve, made him feel weak.

For some strange reason his hand was shaking as he lifted it and ran it through his hair. He was sweaty, despite that it wasn't really that hot in his apartment. But it was a warm day. He opened his bedroom window and sighed in relief as the fresh air blew in.

He turned to lean with his back to the window, then frowned as he saw something sticking up from the bottom of the mirror on his dresser. Steve walked over rapidly to the dresser and reached for the corner of paper he could see sticking up.

It was the corner of a piece of paper, caught between the frame of the mirror and the mirror glass itself. As he slid it up, he found himself staring at a piece of paper.

A sketch.

It was a sketch of a man with dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. Jack Rollins. It was one of his own sketches. He knew it, the way he would know his handwriting anywhere.

It was also the way the sketch had been drawn. Steve had made so many sketches, just like this, of Bucky, focused around his eyes...

The only problem was that Steve couldn't remember ever having drawn Jack Rollins.

 


	3. The Phone Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam tries to help Steve deal in the face of the media circus. Meanwhile, the guys get a number of phone calls and a new threat may force them from their home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: Keep in mind that this is a story about media exposure of very private things. This chapter takes up where the first chapter left off, so we're back in the 'present.' (post-Hydra uprising) See end note for specific warnings and spoilery information!

Sam went ahead and began to prepare lunch for the two of them. Steve liked lasagna and Sam himself felt like a little comfort food was in order. He heard the shower running and felt slightly relieved. Steve was taking care of himself, going through a routine. That was a good sign.

He'd just stuck the lasagna in the oven when he heard a series of thumps, like something falling. Or someone stumbling in a shower stall.

He swore under his breath and moved to the bathroom door, rapped his knuckles on it.

“Hey Steve?” He listened. There was no sound but the water and the shower fan running. He rapped his knuckles again. “Steve.”

If he listened closely, he could hear what sounded like harsh breathing. A whine.

He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. He could not just go storming into the bathroom, even if he wanted to. He was mostly worried about self harm, but even if Steve had self harmed, it wouldn't help to just waltz in on someone who might be naked.

“Steve? Steve!”

“M' fine,” the man finally called after a few moments. “S'okay Sam.”

He could hear what sounded like Rogers getting up from the floor. Then the water was being shut off.

“Okay. Well uh... I'm preparing lasagna.”

“Sounds good,” Steve said after almost a minute. “Thanks.”

“Sure, man.”

He headed back into the kitchen after hesitating for a few moments. He'd just finished setting the table when Steve stepped out of the hallway and into the living room. Blue eyes regarded the coffee table.

“I'm so sorry about that,” he said quietly.

“It's fine, man.” Sam chuckled as he put the parmesan in the center of the table. “I think I'd be pretty pissed too. Go ahead and take a seat.”

Steve glanced up at him, lips stretching at a corner for a moment. His hair was wet. It was growing out a little these days, almost looking like it used to in the pictures from when he first came out of the ice...

Sam's stomach twisted again as he thought about the pictures in the media now. He couldn't imagine how devastated he would feel, as a counselor and a member of the military, if some of his own youthful escapades got into the media. How humiliated he would be. His mom would see it, his sister, and maybe even his _nephew_. Jody looked up to him, like Sam was a hero and-

Oh God, _Jody_.

Sam's phone rang just as Steve was sitting down to the table. The blue eyes glanced up again as he froze.

“Hello?”

“Hey! Wilson! Where's Spangles?”

Tony fucking Stark of course. Sam was still getting over the fact that Iron Man had his cell phone number and talked to him regularly. Sam was in _that circle of people_ now. According to Steve, “It never really gets less weird, but you do start to change your idea of normal.”

Sam felt like his standard of normal was pretty thoroughly rocked by now.

“We're about to have lunch, Tony.”

Steve was covering his face with his hands and groaning softly. “Oh God.”

“Yeah I should probably do that according to a certain AI. But I figured I'd check up on the Greatest Generation!”

“Maybe you should eat lunch,” Sam said in his best counselor voice as he sat down himself and began to slice the lasagna with the spatula. “I'll let you go do that, actually-”

“No no no, wait! I just wanted to let Rogers know that JARVIS is doing his best to clamp down on all this – scouring the internet and all that. I know how it is,” Tony chuckled. “Sometimes you have a little fun and it gets out! No harm done. No foul! I've got the PR team working on a solution-”

“I'm really glad to hear all of that Tony and you're a fantastic friend, but Steve and I gotta eat now, okay?”

“Sure! Just tell Rogers there's no uh, judgment here!” Tony was laughing to the point of wheezing as Sam hung up. He shook his head and left the phone on the table.

“Sam?” Steve was poking at the hefty portion of lasagna that he'd been served. Sam glanced up to see the shirt Steve was wearing – it was a simple v neck, but something about the collar stuck out in his mind.

“Hm?”

“What did Tony have to say?”

“He just said the same thing Nat told me earlier – that JARVIS is doing what he can to clamp down on the pictures.”

Steve's lips stretched slightly, then he sighed.

“This is all my fault,” he prodded at the lasagna, brows furrowing. “They shouldn't have to deal with this. JARVIS has more important-”

“Steve. We're your friends and we care about you.”

The blond blinked and looked away. He raised a hand to rub the back of his neck and that was when Sam realized that Steve didn't normally wear shirts with such an open collar. He wore v-necks sometimes but usually they didn't gape so much. This one revealed his collar bones and Sam tried not to stare. It was just... unusual for Steve.

“Don't know why. All I do is... cause problems for you.” He smiled weakly, then looked away again. “Sorry.”

Sam shook his head. “Eat up, man.”

“Your mom's recipe, right?” Steve said after chewing a bite. “It's really good.”

“Yeah,” Sam smiled a little. “It is. She used to make this whenever I had a test at school or something. Sort of a thing to look forward to. I remember when I came home... after Riley...” He sighed and shook his head. “Sorry.”

“No,” Steve looked up, blue eyes full of concern. “You don't have to feel bad for talking about him. I'm always carrying on about Bucky,” he smiled a little. “And now... this whole mess.”

“Steve.”

“No, I'm sorry. There I go talking about myself again. Please, go back to what you were saying. I want to know.”

He waited until the other man was quiet.

“I don't think less of you. You know that right?”

Steve poked at his plate, looking down. His face was flushed with color and Sam could see now that the flush went down his neck to his chest. It was sort of distracting.

'Come on, refocus. Be an adult,' he thought.

“The truth is...” Sam paused for a moment, wondering if he was making a tremendous mistake. “I've been with guys too.”

Steve blinked and his eyes widened slightly. His flush deepened.

“Oh.”

He looked down at his lasagna. “Well,” he smiled a little. “I mean... nothing wrong with that. I mean... that's not what bothers me about this, Sam.” He glanced up. “I don't think you understand. It's not that I don't... that I have a problem with people knowing about me with men. I mean, I certainly didn't want people to find out like _this,_ but...” He frowned and looked down at his plate. The blond seemed to shudder and he was breathing harder. “It's just-”

Suddenly Steve was coughing. Sam frowned.

“You okay?”

Steve nodded and grabbed his glass of water after a few moments, still coughing. He took a sip, then set it down and started to cough again. Sam stood slightly and thumped the center of his back, without thinking.

Steve looked up at him and for a brief moment, Sam saw that his face was carefully shuttered. Then Steve was glancing away again as he coughed, covering his mouth with a fist.

“I'm fine,” he smiled. “Just... food went down the wrong way. Scuse me.”

He rose from the table and slipped down the hall, leaving Sam sinking back down into his own seat in confusion.

 

* * *

 

Steve stood in the bathroom, eyeing himself in the mirror.

'How could you let this happen? How could you be so stupid?'

He hadn't forgotten about the pictures, exactly. The memories had slowly been coming back and along with them the pain, humiliation, and betrayal.

The worst part was the arousal that accompanied some of them. The memory of hands roaming his body and Jack's words in his ear. The need, the longing to submit.

He wiped at his eyes quickly.

The other awful thing was how emotional it was making him. He'd nearly started crying at the table.

Sam was too good, too kind, making Steve his _mother's lasagna_. He hadn't seen the pictures yet though, or he would... he would be sick. Later, if Sam did see the pictures, he would be disgusted and Steve would see him gradually slip away. Sam couldn't be friends with someone so perverted. Someone who would debase himself with men like _Brock Rumlow_.

Maybe the worst part wasn't even the arousal. No. Perhaps the worst part was the memories of how _stuck_ he'd been on Jack Rollins. He couldn't remember everything yet, but he knew he'd been desperate for Jack's touch, his approval.

There was also the horrible suspicion that there hadn't just been pictures. Steve wasn't sure but he slightly recalled being on his hands and knees and Rollins holding his phone up while talking to him. Steve remembered responding in a soft, pliant tone.

Jack Rollins was still out there somewhere. Brock Rumlow had disappeared from his own hospital bed just a few weeks ago.

And they knew _everything_ whereas Steve was only just remembering. They had piles and piles of evidence-

He clenched his teeth and his hands gripped the sink's edge tightly, the counter creaking under his hands. He wanted to smash the mirror, to grab one of the sharp shards and...

No.

He shook his head, taking a deep breath and ignoring the tears that threatened to fall. He needed to get it together and fast.

_'Mm, yeah can you cry for me? Cry for me, pet.'_

He gagged at the memory of the words and then glared at his reflection for a moment, before looking away in disgust.

 

“ _All right, well speaking about the incidents at the Triskellion in D.C two months ago, Captain Rogers's reputation is once again under scrutiny. Tell us about it, Kristie.”_

 _Kristie scoffed. “I don't know if he's going to_ have _much of a reputation after this! A shocking discovery was made when obscene photographs featuring Captain Rogers were leaked to the internet, on the image board known as 4chan. The images were first posted to the site sometime around three thirty a.m yesterday. The photos quickly spread throughout social media though users noted that some of them have since disappeared.”_

The whole world knew. The whole world was going to know all about him. How he'd _begged_ Jack and Brock, how he'd been a _good boy_ for them, a good _pet_. How he'd taken them in his ass and his mouth, _swallowed_ for them.

His stomach twisted and he quickly moved to the toilet. Steve took several deep breaths that turned into sobs and he began to heave.

 

“ _Neither Captain Rogers nor the Avenger's Initiative PR spokesperson have commented on the validity of the images, many of which feature him nude. Users have commented on the obscene nature of the photos. Captain Rogers was already under scrutiny as you said, Rob, for refusing to answer for what happened in Washington. There was public outcry for the Captain to answer for his part in what is now known as the Hydra Uprising. While that died down somewhat the past few weeks, it's likely these photographs will reignite demands for the Captain to come forward.”_

“ _Indeed Kristie,” the young anchor scoffs. “And I think this will further spark debate on what kind of person is_ really _behind the shield.”_

 

He stared at the lasagna he'd just spat up and sighed, closing his eyes. Slowly, he stood and flushed the toilet. He rinsed out his mouth and washed his face, then looked at himself in the mirror again.

_What kind of person is really behind the shield?_

_'You like that, Captain? Huh? You like having a cock in your ass, don't you?'_

Well if the whole world didn't know what kind of person he really was by now then they must be blind or stupid.

He looked away and slowly headed out of the bathroom. Steve was going to head straight for his room. For a moment, he stopped, feeling guilty about leaving Sam with the washing up. With a soft sigh, he turned and headed back to the kitchen. It wasn't right.

He didn't get to hide from his shame. Especially not from Sam, who was being kind to him and Steve suspected, might even have looked up to him at some point.

Well, he certainly didn't anymore, Steve thought. Or he shouldn't.

Maybe this was for the best – now everyone knew that he wasn't such a great man after all.

 

* * *

 

“I'll get the dishes,” he told Sam who was already collecting them. “You cooked, after all.”

“Sure,” Sam's lips stretched at one corner and he set the dishes by the sink. “I can put the rest of it away.”

Steve nodded. “Thanks. It um, was really good.” His face colored at the silence that followed as he went to the sink and began to fill it with hot water. Steve didn't have a dish washer because he honestly preferred to clean dishes himself. Sam had teased him about living in the stone age when they moved in. But Steve actually found washing dishes by hand a little therapeutic.

He tried to turn his thoughts to more important things than his own misery. It didn't matter what the media said. Bucky mattered.

Buck was out there somewhere, probably alone, and what if he was hungry?

He nearly jumped when he looked to his left and Sam was setting the pan on the counter.

“Sorry,” he laughed softly, blushing, as he turned the water off and poured some dish detergent into it. He set the dishes into the sink and began to scrub them.

“Nah, it's my bad. I didn't mean to sneak up on you,” Sam was smiling a little as he got the plastic wrap from under the sink.

They were silent as they cleaned up until Sam started talking about something Jody had done that his sister told him about the night before over the phone. Steve actually began to chuckle slightly and for a little while, he felt almost normal again.

“I mean who is he kidding, right? Like his teacher's just _not_ gonna notice his desk missing a leg. He was trying to hold it up and everything-”

Sam's phone rang again. Steve looked up at him, curious.

“Who is it?”

Sam shrugged, frowning at the screen. Then he pressed the button on it and held it to his ear.

“Hello?”

As Steve watched, his friend froze and his eyes widened slightly.

 

“Hello?”

“Hey _buddy_ ,” a rough voice grated. Sam froze.

“Who is this?”

Laughter followed. “I see what you've done.”

“What I've done?” He held up a hand as Steve frowned. “Who is this?”

“Yeah, you got _Stevie_ all to yourself now, huh? Aw, you don't remember me?” More chuckles followed. “You and I had a little scrap.”

“Oh,” Sam nodded. “You're _that_ idiot.”

Steve froze and his eyes widened. Sam mentally cursed himself for letting his emotions get through. He just hadn't expected this. That was when his eyes darted toward the windows.

Shit, now Steve was looking around. His breath seemed shallow, but then his brows furrowed and his jaw clenched. Steve moved away from the sink, ignoring his own hands trailing water. Sam watched as he moved to press against a wall by a window, glancing to Sam before peeking out. Sam shook his head.

Who he guessed to be Rumlow was laughing softly into the phone.

“Yeah. Lucky for you that helicarrier came along, huh? You just got to _run away_.”

“Yeah, it's too bad it didn't kill you,” Sam said conversationally. “So, how did you get my number?”

Steve was watching him closely, eyes holding a mix of anxiety and determination. His chest was rising and falling quickly but his breaths were silent. His body was tense but swift as he glanced out the window again, then moved past Sam to the living room. Sam stopped him with a hand to his arm.

Steve froze and looked at him searchingly.

“I've got my sources.”

“Well I'm real flattered, but I'm assuming you didn't just call me to chat.”

“Why not? Maybe I miss my sweet little puppy.”

Sam's gut turned and his teeth clenched. He still kept his hand from squeezing Steve's arm though. He knew that Steve had heard Rumlow's voice, because he blinked rapidly and looked away, his face coloring again. His jaw worked as Sam watched.

“I don't know what you're talking about, but-”

“You been watchin' the news lately, Wilson?”

A cold feeling spread from his gut through his chest, down to his arms.

“I have actually. I hope you find a good place to hide, Rumlow.”

“Me?” He laughed. “I'm not the one who needs to hide right now. I mean, I can't imagine how my scared little puppy is feeling.”

“It really is too bad that building didn't finish you,” Sam's teeth clenched. He turned his glare away from Steve who was looking down at the floor, blinking hard.

“Yeah, I know. But hey, here we are. Every day is a gift and all, right? I've got a little present for you, Wilson. Enjoy.”

The line went dead. Shit. Fuck! He should have kept the bastard talking while... maybe JARVIS could have...

His phone rang again. Steve had pulled away and was standing by the wall, his hand against it, lightly, his back to Sam. Sam's heart was racing as he realized that a Hydra agent had somehow found his phone number. Oh god, what if-

He answered, seeing the number from earlier – Stark.

“Hey.”

“Finished with lunch yet?” Stark's tone held a certain grim surety to it.

“Yep.”

“JARVIS tells me you got a call from an unlisted number.”

“It was Brock Rumlow.”

“Brock What? Ohh! Was he the guy that slipped from the hospital?”

Steve was peering through the front window blinds now.

“Yeah. That one,” Sam sighed.

“Look, why don't you come to the Tower? It'll be safer here, we can avoid the paparazzi-”

“At Stark tower?” Sam chuckled bitterly. Steve turned to look at him, an eyebrow raised. Sam lowered the phone as Tony blathered.

“He wants us to come to the tower.”

Steve's brow furrowed and he shook his head, then looked through the blinds again.

“I don't know if that's a good idea,” Sam told Tony.

“What! Why not? Look, if they've found your number there's a good chance-”

“Oh shit,” Sam swore and Steve turned quickly to look at him. “Sarah and Jody.”

Steve's eyes widened slightly.

“Easy easy. We've got eyes on your sister's house,” Sam relaxed.

“Thank God.”

“Well I'm not a god, but you're welcome. I'm thinking I'll have JARVIS send you and Steve new phones – bit more secure.”

“Thanks.” Then he froze as he remembered what Rumlow said. “Rumlow said something about a present for me.”

Steve was the one to freeze this time. “Oh god...” He swore and turned away. For a moment, he seemed to move in a circle, as if not sure where to go, then he moved toward the window again.

“Okay... Well JARVIS will keep his eyes and ears out. You guys sure you wouldn't want to come up here? I can send a car.”

Sam frowned and looked to Steve again. “Hold on a sec.”

“Hey,” he stepped closer to Steve who was breathing deeply. “Look, I know you're not keen on the idea of Stark tower but it may be safer there...”

“Bucky won't come there,” Steve frowned, lowering his arms and turning to face Sam. “He'd be too intimidated.”

“Maybe so. But so will any members of Hydra.”

“I'm not scared of them,” Steve clenched his jaw. Then his eyes softened. “But I don't want to endanger you any more than you already are in danger.”

“I'm _with_ you,” Sam said. “Period.”

The blond's face flushed again and his lips stretched for a moment. “Thanks.”

“But I think it would do us good to be closer to your friends. And this way if JARVIS finds anything, we'll know faster.”

Sam didn't mention it might also be easier to keep Steve's media usage screened in the tower.

Steve frowned. Then he rubbed his hands over his face and sighed. His expression was grim but resigned and Sam felt a small twinge of victory. He wasn't looking forward to being around Tony Stark, with Steve in his current condition. But he didn't feel safe in their apartment anymore.

“You're right. It will be safer there."

Sam nodded. “Tony? I think we'll take you up on that ride.”

 

* * *

 

Steve was packing when he noticed his phone was gone.

“Sam? Sam, do you have my phone?”

The other man was in his own room, packing a duffel bag with clothes. He glanced up at Steve then frowned. Sam fished in his pocket and tossed the phone to Steve who caught it. Steve noticed it was off and frowned.

“Sorry man,” was all Sam had to say. Steve shrugged, then pressed the button to turn it on.

He found that he had two text messages. One from Natasha, asking if he was all right. He felt a warmth in his stomach, along with a twinge of guilt. The Avengers had better things to worry about than his ludicrous problem with the media.

The second text message was from a number he didn't recognize.

“Hey Stevie.”

His heart sank into his gut and he stared at it.

“What is it?” Sam asked. Steve shook his head and lowered his phone.

“Nothing. Just... Natasha asked if I was okay.” He forced a small smile to his lips. Then he turned and left the room. “I'll go finish packing.”

“Sure.”

Steve stopped in the door and looked back.

“Thanks, Sam. For everything.”

The other man shook his head.

“Nah. I get to stay in Stark tower and you know how much I love that Starbucks on the first floor.”

Steve grinned. “Not to mention the McDonalds on the third.”

“Yeah that too,” Sam chuckled. Steve nodded and left the room.

 

* * *

 

His hands trembled as he stood in his own room, glancing to the open duffel bag on his bed then back to the screen of his phone. The words taunted him in the text.

What if it was Bucky? What if he'd...

'No. Don't be ridiculous.'

It couldn't be Bucky. Because Bucky, in his current mental state, wouldn't text Steve and probably wouldn't call him 'Stevie.'

Swallowing, Steve deleted the strange text, then texted Natasha back.

“I'm fine,” he typed. He was about to tell her they were on their way to Stark tower, when he remembered overhearing Tony telling Sam they'd be getting new phones. He didn't want to advertise where they were if it turned out their phones were bugged.

He forced himself to put the phone in his pocket, then continued packing.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Specific warnings for this chapter include: triggers, remembered manipulation and gaslighting. Tony Stark calls and is an oblivious asshat. Brock Rumlow calls Sam's phone and taunts them but nothing violent happens.


	4. Team Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam keeps getting texts from Rumlow. Steve keeps wishing he could just sink through the floor. As the two move to Stark Tower to escape the media frenzy, Steve finds he still has people to face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter because people had to wait :D   
> Warnings: Self blaming/rape culture, Tony still being an oblivious douche, detailed noncon (which I will mark with asterisks * ), angst, mild self harm, and a guilty boner.

It was on the way to Stark tower that Sam looked at his phone again. Steve was looking out the window of the car at the buildings passing by. The driver was a young man Steve recognized, a friendly kid named Jules. Usually he was talkative but someone must have informed him that Steve wasn't really in the mood for a chat today. Maybe it was Tony. Steve felt grateful to the man.

He kept thinking about Tony's light tone heard over Sam's phone. The inventor seemed to think this was all a joke. Maybe it was better that way? Maybe it was better to just...

'No. You don't get to feel better about this.'

He looked down at his lap, then back to Sam who was looking slightly uncomfortable.

“What is it?” Steve asked. Sam looked to him, raising his eyebrows, then shook his head.

“Nothin. Just... Text message. Nat says hi.”

Steve nodded. He checked his own phone and tried not to react when he saw that he had another message. He slid his thumb over it, opening it.

His face flushed when he saw the file accompanying it. Heart hammering in his chest, he quickly closed the message.

'You remember this, puppy?'

His stomach twisted.

They were laughing at him. No, he didn't remember it and he didn't want to.

He would probably remember it soon enough anyway.

“Steve?” Sam said. The blond realized he was gripping the car door hard and his breaths were fast again.

“Yeah? I'm fine,” he rambled, then flushed brightly.

“Who texted you?”

Steve frowned, staring at him. He looked at Sam's phone. Then he looked up at Sam.

The other man had the grace to look slightly apologetic.

“Just Nat, huh?” Steve asked, then looked out the window again, humiliated. God, what had Rumlow sent him? What had Sam seen now?

“I'm sorry. I didn't want to ups-”

There was a loud crack as Steve's phone shattered in his hand.

 

* * *

 

He didn't remember the picture. That wasn't even the worst part.

In the picture, his eyes were heavy lidded, jaw held open by an odd gag. He remembered the gag – it had a crank on the front of it.

So that they could push the ball deeper into his throat. So they could train him out of his gag reflex. So that Brock could laugh, smile razor sharp at him as he gagged on it.

Steve had looked desperate, almost pleading, his eyes hazy with lust. Drool glistened at the corner of his lips.

_'Mm, you want a big tasty cock, don't you?'_

_'Look at him, he's about to come untouched.'_

He didn't remember the picture being taken because there had been so many times where he was gagged and moaning or pleading for it.

 

* * *

 

He washed his face in cold water, alone in the bathroom of his suite at Stark tower. It had been hard enough just greeting Tony fresh out of the car with Sam on his heels. The two friends had barely been able to look each other in the eye and Stark seemed to pick up on the mood.

“Okay, Capsicle,” he'd said and it had taken nearly all of Steve's willpower not to snap at Tony not to call him that. “Let me show you guys to the Odd Couple suite!”

He had no right to snap at Tony. Tony was being a very good friend, letting them stay, letting _Steve_ stay in his tower. 

At least now Tony seemed to understand the severity of the situation and his humor had been toned down. It wasn't _totally_ gone, of course, but it had clearly been doused, probably by Pepper or Natasha.

Steve grit his teeth, hands gripping the counter in the bathroom as he tried to ignore his erection.

*

He could just feel Jack stepping up behind him, the heat of the taller man's body and his breath against Steve's neck.

_'You want it, pet? You want me to fuck your mouth?'_

The gleam of a tag on a collar. The clicking sounds as a strong hand gripped the front ring of the collar and held him in place while Rollins's hips rolled against his. An erection pressing against his bare but plugged ass through the fabric of combat pants.

Brock's laughter as Steve moaned when his nipples were tugged and pinched harshly.

Anything. Anything to meet his release.

*

He gasped in the bathroom, his hand over the front of his pants. Then he clenched his teeth and groaned softly. Steve glared at himself in the mirror.

'You're pathetic. Look at you. Disgusting. _Weak._ '

He blinked against hot tears as he pulled his hand away. He ran the water again, cold this time and washed his face once more. He wet his hand and placed it against the back of his neck, shuddering.

When his body had calmed, he slipped out of the bathroom. He saw Sam sitting on the sofa in the living room area of the suite and gave him a small smile before glancing away.

“My sister called. She's all right. Said Jody's grounded,” Sam raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like he hasn't been doing his homework after all.”

Steve smiled a little.

“He's wild, just like his uncle,” Steve teased as he moved to sit down next to Sam. Not too close. He always gave Sam room, but especially now. No reason for Sam to have to sit close to someone like him.

That was when it struck him and he gasped.

“Steve?”

He blinked several times, shaking his head rapidly. Oh god. Oh god, what if...

Steve was all over the news. What if _Bucky_ happened to see it? What would Bucky _think?_

“Oh god,” he whispered, and clenched his teeth, sweeping up from the sofa.

“Steve,” Sam called. “Steve, wait.”

“Please,” Steve said, shaking his head as he hurried from the room. “I don't want to talk about it.”

 

* * *

 

 

Sam sighed as he looked at the tv. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket, so he glanced at it. It was another message from the unlisted number. Rumlow again.

He'd received three texts so far, each one accompanied by a picture. Stark – when informed they were getting texts from Rumlow or in Steve's case had been before he smashed his phone – had simply told Sam to allow the texts to keep coming. JARVIS was working on tracing the number and anything Rumlow sent might later be compiled as evidence.

Steve's face had gone absolutely pale at the mention of 'evidence.'

Sam wondered if Steve even realized that this legally constituted harrassment. Probably not. And if he did he certainly wouldn't see it that way. Steve had been offended at the suggestion he'd been assaulted, after all.

Sam sighed. For a moment, he wondered if he should even open the text. Then he rolled his eyes and did.

His eyes widened at the sight.

The first picture had been Steve lying on his back, his legs spread, knees up toward the camera. His arms were above his head in what looked like rope, and his lips had been parted. The second picture had included the bizarre gag with the... the handle or crank or whatever on it.

This one was Steve from the back, on his knees with his hands behind him, holding himself wide open His ankles were cuffed to a bar that kept them spread.

Sam quickly looked away and softly cursed himself. He cursed Tony Stark and began to delete the photos. He didn't give a shit about 'evidence.' He wouldn't want people keeping pictures like that of _him_ on their phones.

For a few moments, he struggled silently, wondering if he'd made a bad decision. It wasn't fair to say that Steve would never take this to court, even if Sam knew he wouldn't. Was it fair to delete the only evidence Steve might have – text messages from an unlisted number?

Then again, it wasn't like the photos weren't all over the fucking _internet_.

Sam looked over his shoulder, then looked up at the tv. No, probably better if he didn't...

He opened a browser on his phone and went to the front page of the news.

“Steve Rogers Sex Scandal: Who is Captain America, Really?”

Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head. Didn't they just answer their own question? But people didn't see Steve Rogers. All they saw was some icon, some cardboard cut out from history.

Sam scanned through the article but did himself a favor and didn't look at the comments. He could only imagine the sort of crap people were saying. The article only mentioned two photos and didn't offer links to them 'out of respect for the good Captain's privacy.' Right. Sam was just relieved that there weren't any pictures being mentioned. 

He did not mention to Steve that Sarah had asked Sam how he was doing. That she had texted earlier asking if he'd heard the news.

He thought of Jody and his stomach turned. What did his nephew know about this? Jody was only twelve. How would he feel, hearing about his uncle's new friend and an old hero being lambasted all over the media? He'd never really thought much about how the media on the Avengers would affect his sister and his nephew. His mom had joked about Sam making sure he didn't end up in the public eye for doing anything wild.

Oh God, what did his mom know about this? Sam looked at his phone. She hadn't called him today yet. Anxiety beginning to bubble up in his chest, he dialed her number.

“Hey,” he said as soon as she picked up.

“Samuel,” she sighed. “Oh it's awful.”

“Are you okay?”

“Me? I'm fine! But what about your friend?”

Sam's heart warmed. That was the kind of woman his mom was.

“He's fine, mom. Just... down.”

“Well I should _think_ so! Are you there with him?”

“I am. We're actually staying at Stark tower tonight.”

“Oh, poor Steve,” she sighed. His mom had met Steve Rogers exactly twice and Sam was pretty sure she'd adopted the blond the moment she first heard Sam was in the hospital with him after the Triskelion.

“It's so awful what they're saying about him. Oh, don't watch the news! You aren't watching, are you?”

“No,” he smiled wryly. “Steve and I aren't watching the news.”

“It's terrible. Just terrible. Makes me so angry the things they're sayin' about him. He's such a sweet man.”

“I know,” Sam felt a twinge in his chest. Only a week before, the two of them had been laughing after getting back from a run. Steve had tripped over something just after passing Sam and the two of them had burst into laughter. It had been a rare moment of fun in several weeks of confusion and sadness. Thinking of Steve's smile then, his laughter...

Sam had thought Steve was acting shifty lately. Now as he recalled that moment, his smile faded.

“Sam?”

“Mom?”

“Are you doing all right?”

“I'm fine,” he told her. “I'm okay. It's Steve I'm worried about.”

“Well of course. But he's got a good friend taking care of him.”

His lips stretched at one corner in a wry smile. “Yeah. Listen, I'm gonna go, okay? You sure you're doing all right?”

“I'm fine! Carryin' on like always. The church is having their bake sale this weekend, I've got to get ready for that. How about you come by and pick up some oatmeal cookies you and Steve can have?”

“That does sound good,” he said.

“You could bring him by for dinner Saturday night while you're at it.” 

He nearly groaned. Trapped!

“I'll see if he'd like that.”

“You better! I've got steaks in my freezer that need to be got rid of.”

He laughed. “I see how it is.”

“Like you wouldn't be droolin' over 'em anyhow.”

“Yes, ma'am. I love you.”

“I love you too, hon'. You take care of yourself.”

“Sure, mom.”

“Mm, let me know if Steven wants to come for dinner.”

“I will.”

 

He ran a hand over his head, exhaling slowly.

Steve hadn't just been acting edgy lately – he'd been acting edgier today, sure - but when Sam thought about it, the blond had been growing increasingly wary since the Triskelion fell. He'd thought it just had to do with their search for Bucky Barnes.

Something was seriously wrong with all of this, but Sam had no idea where to even begin looking. Steve wasn't telling them something. Steve had been holding something in all this time.

Had it been a _group_ of men at SHIELD? God, what if it was men on the STRIKE team? Steve had told him how he'd become friends with them - how they betrayed him in the elevator. The blonde hadn't been very open about it - only mentioned it in passing. Now he wondered if he should have listened more closely, asked Steve about it. He hadn't wanted to pry into bad memories though. 

Sam shook his head. He wasn't going to let his mind run away with this when he didn't know all the details.

His phone buzzed and he sighed. For a moment, he just sat looking at the little green bubble. Then he scrolled his thumb over it and opened it.

This one was a video.

He quickly turned the volume on his phone down as it played.

*

Steve was moaning. He had a gag in his mouth. His arms were tied over his head and he seemed to be lying on his back. His knees were up beside his chest and the camera panned down to show that his ankles were tied expertly to the back of his legs. Something long and very thick was being pushed slowly in and out of him. It was vibrating.

As Sam watched, the camera focused on Steve's cock, which was almost purple with need. He winced at the sight of the rope bound around the sack and at the base of his cock.

Steve groaned behind his gag and someone shushed him softly, a voice Sam didn't recognize. He could hear Rumlow's laughter in the background and his stomach twisted.

“Shh, be good pet,” the unfamiliar man in the video said. “Be good. What do you have to say to us, huh?”

The gag was loosened as the camera tilted up again. Steve gasped, licking his lips and stretching his jaw with a wince. His face was pale and Sam noticed shadows under his eyes. His lip looked bruised.

“What do you have to say?” Rumlow asked.

“Hai... Hail Hydra,” Steve glanced up into the camera.

Rumlow chuckled and the camera moved back to show Steve's whole body. His blue eyes followed the phone, haunted, then looked down toward his groin. His eyes widened and he groaned aloud as Rumlow began to stroke him rapidly.

“Yeah, that's right. Say it again.”

“Hai... Hail Hydra-ahh!”

They laughed as Steve came. Sam stared, his lips parted. His face was hot and his heart was hammering.

The worst part was that he was hard as a rock.

“All Avengers are welcome to assemble on the commons floor for dinner,” JARVIS intoned, startling him.

Shit. _Shit_. JARVIS was watching him too.

His stomach sank as he watched the video end, Steve shuddering and groaning. A man's hand was stroking his forehead, sliding fingers into his blonde hair and tugging it. 

"Good boy," an unfamiliar voice growled. 

* 

He quickly closed the video and looked behind him to see Steve walking into the living room area.

“Hey,” he cursed his own lack of a good poker face, forcing a small smile to his lips. “Wanna watch a movie?”

He hadn't even had a movie in mind, just... just blurted it.

Steve stopped and eyed him for a moment. He looked at Sam's phone, in his hands, then his eyes met Sam's.

“No,” he said. “JARVIS said we're invited to dinner, upstairs on the common floor...” Steve's eyes dropped to the floor. His shoulder rose in a brief shrug.

“Sure,” Sam said, standing slowly. He was glad his jeans would hide his arousal pretty well. He felt absolutely disgusted with himself.

Worst of all, Rumlow had that video and could leak it whenever he chose. The bastard was off somewhere _relishing_ the idea that Sam was the only one who'd seen it yet. He just hoped to God he was the only one who'd seen it yet. 

He smiled slightly at Steve again. The blond was shifting on his feet, glancing up at Sam with a frown. He looked as if he wanted to say something, then fell quiet.

“Well I'm ready to go whenever,” Sam shrugged.

“Right,” Steve said. “I'll go put on some shoes.” He turned and headed back to his room. Sam breathed out slowly.

He almost deleted the video from his phone when his thumb paused over it. It was still evidence. Steve was tied up here and at least two agents were identifiable...

He closed his eyes, shaking his head. Something inside of him was sinking, twisted, making him feel soul sick.

Had that particular scene been one of the ones Steve seemed to think of as _consensual?_

Sam hurried into the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. He rubbed at his eyes and the bridge of his nose.

'What the hell is wrong with you, Samuel Wilson?'

 

* * *

 

 

Steve tried not to wonder what other texts Sam had gotten.

He'd definitely had a guilty look on his face when Steve went into the living room to extend JARVIS's invitation. He supposed he could ask JARVIS what Rumlow had sent Sam so far, but it would have felt intrusive.

Then again, the idea that he was being intrusive by wondering what pictures Rumlow had sent Sam including him, Steve, _naked_ was laughable.

He forced himself to meet Pepper's eyes when she greeted him with a smile and a kiss to his cheek. He forced himself to meet Bruce's eyes and Tony's eyes. He raised an eyebrow when Tony winked at him.

“Come sit!” Pepper said. “The food is ready.”

Steve followed Sam to the table. He nearly balked at the sight of Clint and Natasha already sitting there.

Oh god. Oh god, they _knew_. Everyone knew. And he would have to face...

He took a deep breath and comforted himself with the wry thought that at least Thor wouldn't know and probably wouldn't understand what the hell was going on anyway even if he _did_. Did they have sex scandals in Asgard? He almost wished he could _run away_ to Asgard.

'Coward. You deserve this.'

Clint nodded to him, eyes friendly enough and Natasha's lips stretched into a small smile. Steve's face colored but he nodded back to Clint, then to Natasha. He moved to take a seat next to her at the table. Sam sat to his right.

Tony was at the head of the table with Natasha to his right and Clint to his left, followed by Pepper and Bruce.

Steve eyed the food on the table. He didn't really have much of an appetite, but he knew he should eat something.

He thought of Bucky out there somewhere, maybe with nothing to eat...

He didn't deserve this food. He didn't deserve to be at this table. Not with these people-

“Hey. Hey Capsicle?”

“Tony,” Pepper was saying softly. She looked tired when Steve glanced up at her. She gave him a small, encouraging smile and he tried to return it, glancing back over to Tony.

Stark was lifting his hands up.

“I thought maybe you'd like to say grace. First time we've had the team back together in-”

"Tony," Bruce frowned. 

“Stark, shut up and let the man eat,” Clint rolled his eyes, glancing to Steve with a shrug. Steve smiled.

“It's fine. I can say grace.”

“Yeah, he can say grace. Let the man say grace, Barton,” Tony took Natasha's hand but she smacked his and pulled her own away. She did take Steve's hand though. Clint reached across and Natasha took his hand with a smirk.

“Hey!” Tony looked to Pepper who raised an eyebrow at him. She was taking Clint's hand in her right and Bruce's in her left.

Steve glanced to Sam with a small smile, then bowed his head, eyes closing.

“Thank you, God, for this opportunity to eat together as a team again. We ask you to bless this food as nourishment to our bodies. Amen.”

“Amen,” Sam said softly, squeezing his hand slightly. Natasha also squeezed his hand. Steve felt warmth in his chest, but he kept his eyes down.

“Thank you, Steve. That was nice,” Pepper said, giving Tony a pointed look.

“Uh,” Tony said. “It was also my idea.”

“Aren't you an atheist?” Natasha said conversationally as she scooped rice onto her plate. Steve couldn't help it, he smirked. He looked up and his eyes met Bruce's. Bruce was also apparently amused and he winked at Steve who fought a grin.

“So? I can appreciate a nice tradition!” Stark was serving himself up a big heap of noodles. They were eating Thai food tonight. Steve busied himself by moving dumplings to his plate, then passing things along.

A few moments later he realized his plate was heaped with more food than he really felt like eating.

'You served it, might as well eat it now,' he thought. He began to eat the dumplings first. He liked dump-

“ _That's right, good boy.” Jack grinned slowly._

“ _Good boy.” Metal fingers brushed against his lips as he chewed into it._

He had frozen while chewing and he stared at his plate, his eyes wide. He felt something press into his rib and nearly jumped. Natasha was watching him closely, an eyebrow slightly raised.

Steve went back to chewing. He tried to focus on the food, on the smell of the wine and beer, on anything...

_Jack giving him beer to wash down the taste of pizza as Steve sat between him and Brock. The smell of the sweatshirt he wore – Jack's sweatshirt, surrounding him, warming him, making him feel safe._

Safe. Despite that Jack had beaten the shit out of him earlier. Beaten him until he bled.

'And you thanked him.'

He stood up, forcing himself to swallow the bite in his mouth.

“Excuse me, I... Need to use the restroom.”

He pushed his chair back and slipped from the table, hurrying toward the common floor's bathroom.

“Steve,” Sam called after him.

“Let him go,” Natasha said quietly.

He shut the door behind him, then locked it. He rubbed at his eyes and tried not to think about the fact that his teammates were probably asking JARVIS if Steve was okay.

“I'm fine,” he said to the AI. “Tell them I'm fine, please.”

“Yes, Captain,” JARVIS said.

JARVIS, the AI, who respected him. Who would respect Steve no matter what pictures he'd seen or scoured from the internet. Or at least, he would act respectful anyway. There was no telling with the AI who seemed every bit as human sometimes as Tony or Steve or anyone else...

He looked at himself in the mirror and shook his head.

'You're such a drama queen. Making everyone worry about you.'

When who they really should be concerned about was Bucky. _Bucky_ needed help. Steve was fine. Steve was healthy and he hadn't been tortured and God only knew what else Hydra had done to his friend...

He tried not to think about the possibilities. About how Brock had laughed as he cried out in distress. About how the man had smiled so brilliantly.

He remembered how Jack had looked at Brock when he smiled, like he was the only thing in existence. Steve had always just been a toy for them to play with.

He closed his eyes, clenching his teeth.

'What is wrong with you? You have no right to be jealous. You always knew you were just a plaything...'

Jack had looked at him sometimes. Jack had collared him, held him, treated him good, made him come.

“Stop,” he whispered, rubbing at his temples. “Just stop.”

Someone rapped on the door. “Steve?”

He turned off the water, frowning. It was Natasha.

“You okay?”

“I'm fine,” he called, then winced at his own tone. “Sorry. I'm fine. I'll be back in a few.”

“Okay...”

He listened, straining, to hear her walk away. When he heard nothing, he sighed and took a towel, then wiped his face with it. When he closed his eyes, he saw metal fingertips reaching toward him, pressing against his lips.

He threw the towel from him, stumbling back.

No. No, no, no. He'd imagined that. He had to. It didn't make any sense... didn't...

Except that it did. Except that they'd clearly toyed with his memory. There were all the clues from his apartment before he left DC, all the strange things; the months of missing diary entries, the missing phone records... The sketch he found of Jack. 

He leaned against the wall, shaking his head.

“No, no, no, no, please no,” he whispered.

'How could you have been so stupid?'

“God, no...”

'How could you have been so, _so stupid?_ '

He glared at himself in the large mirror against the wall, filled with hate. His teeth clenched and his hands formed into fists by his side. He beat his head back against the wall once, then twice.

It felt good. Something about the jarring pain...

He closed his eyes and sank back against the wall.

“Come on,” he muttered. “Get up. Get yourself together.”

 

For a while, he sat with his knees drawn up and his arms resting on them. His head rested on one of his arms. He finally stood and looked himself over in the mirror. The back of his head was throbbing slightly, but he ignored it. Instead, he opened the door to the bathroom.

He was relieved to find no one there and headed back into the dining area.

Most of the others had finished eating and he noticed Bruce and Pepper were gone. Stark was still there, along with Clint, Natasha, and Sam.

“Pepper extends her regrets,” Tony stretched as Steve walked into the room, carefully avoiding everyone's gazes. “But she was tired.”

Steve nodded. “I'm very grateful to her,” he said as he reached his chair. “And um... you and JARVIS too.”

“Hey! Me casa es su casa. My internets is your internets,” Tony grinned. “I'm always trying to promote good digital citizen- ow!”

Natasha was giving Tony a very pointed look. Steve smiled a little and sat down. His plate was still there but he decided to ignore the dumplings. He picked at some noodles, then remembering he had thrown up his lunch earlier, decided to make himself eat. He looked up at Tony first and nodded.

“Thanks.”

He took a bite of the noodles, ignoring the feeling of Sam and Clint's eyes.

“Well, I'm gonna go science! Inventing things and such.” Tony pushed his chair back, apparently noticing the thickness of the air. He hurried from the room with a beer in hand. “Nice seeing you Wilson! Barton! _Romanoff._ ”

Natasha rolled her eyes. She was rolling the bit of wine around in her glass. She began staring intently at Clint.

“Oh, yeah. I um... I gotta go to bed too actually.” He got up. “Big day tomorrow.”

Natasha huffed as she watched him go. Steve nodded to him, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

“Good seeing you, man,” Sam said.

“Hey, you too!” Clint called as he moved to the elevator. “Maybe we can hang out tomorrow!”

“All right,” Sam smiled.

“And then there were three,” Natasha sounded satisfied when Clint was gone. Steve could feel their eyes meeting behind his back as he took another bite of noodles and he almost rolled his own eyes.

He loved his friends and he felt very grateful for them, for their concern but... Part of him bristled at the fact that Natasha had some idea of him as a... a _victim_.

“Rogers, I need to talk to you.”

He took a sip of wine, then sat back.

“Okay,” he nodded. “I'm here.” His lips stretched in a small smile and he raised his eyebrows. 

Natasha's gaze stopped him and his heart sank. Her eyes were open and unusually warm, sympathetic.

Oh God, she _pitied_ him. Steve looked down. They all did, probably. That was why they were talking to him. Why Tony had invited him to the tower. He was an embarrassment to all of them obviously - he'd ruined the Avengers' good PR and it was better for him to hide in the Tower anyway, out of sight. 

He felt a hand on his and looked up to see that it was hers. He tilted his own hand with a small smile and took her fingers in his own.

“Who's behind the camera?”

Well! She did not fuck around, Natasha Romanoff.

He huffed and looked down.

“Does it really matter?”

She tilted her head, raising an eyebrow.

Steve closed his eyes and sighed. For a few moments, he was silent... hating himself, hating Hydra, hating everything that had led him to this moment.

He opened his eyes. “Jack Rollins. It was... it was him and... Brock. Rumlow." 

His face flooded with color. Sam had already known of course – courtesy of Rumlow's fucking call. But there was something about saying it out loud.

He felt a hand settle on his shoulder, warm and solid, and he looked over to Sam. Then he blinked and looked down.

He didn't deserve them. Either of them.

His throat was tight so he swallowed.

“I know it doesn't mean anything now, but I am so sorry about all of this and I-”

“Steve,” Natasha said.

“Don't be sorry,” Sam told him.

“I... I trusted them,” Steve said finally, shaking his head. “I was so stupid.”

“You didn't know,” Natasha said.

“Well of course not, but... still.” Steve shook his head. “I should have known better than to put myself in that position-”

“Steve,” Sam frowned.

“What if people find out it was... _Hydra?_ I should... I should quit the team." 

"No!" Sam sat up, his hand gently squeezing Steve's shoulder. Steve looked at him, frowning. "No, man. That is the last thing we want." 

“I highly doubt they're going to reveal themselves anyway,” Natasha said.

“No," Steve agreed bitterly, looking at the table again. "They're having too much fun hiding and posting things all over the internet for everyone to see." His voice broke and he hated himself. He closed his eyes. “I'm sorry. It... it's really not that big of a deal.”

“It really is,” Natasha said. “Because you don't deserve to be treated like that.”

Steve huffed.

“Thank you but... I'm afraid I do. Because I'm stupid. I deserve _everything I get_ for-”

“Steve,” Sam's hand gently slid along his shoulder, rubbing it. The back of Steve's neck prickled and his chest grew warm. His eyes felt hot again.

“I'm guessing it started out with just one of them?” Natasha said.

Steve nodded, his face heating. “Brock. I... I had some drinks with Brock and then... he invited me to... be with both him and Jack.” He blinked against the moisture in his eyes. He would not cry. He didn't deserve to feel sorry for himself.

“I shouldn't... we shouldn't even be bothering with this. Bucky's out there and he-”

“He can take care of himself right now,” Natasha squeezed his hand.

“No he can't,” Steve said. “He's... he might be hurt and... they might find him. Oh God, what if they find him-”

“Steve,” Sam tugged his shoulder gently. Steve closed his eyes and sighed.

“Why... why do we... have to talk about this? I mean I understand I'm... I've made a mess, but why...”

“Because it hurt you,” Natasha's voice was gentle. “And those two are _assholes_ for what they did to you.”

"Exactly," Sam agreed. 

“They didn't... They didn't really do anything. I mean,” Steve scoffed. “I let them...” he blinked several times, glancing up at the ceiling.

'Like a slut,' he thought. 'Like a disgusting, filthy whore...'

“Steve, I need to ask you some questions.”

“Okay,” he said weakly, lifting his hand and quickly wiping at his eyes.

“You were in a domination-submission relationship, correct?”

Steve hadn't thought he could blush any hotter, but he could apparently. He nodded, his eyes on the table.

“You were the submissive.”

“Yes.”

“Did you ever discuss limits with them?”

He nodded. “All the time.” He tried not to think of how Jack had mocked him as he screamed behind a gag.

_'Is this your hard limit...?'_

“Did they respect your limits?”

He was about to say yes out of some need to move the questioning along when he stopped.

“They did... at first.”

“When did that change? How long had you been with them?”

“I... I don't...” he shook his head. “I'm not sure.”

She was silent for a moment.

“You don't know?”

Sam's brows furrowed and he jerked his head. Steve shook his head.

“No, I... I know. I mean... I'm pretty sure it was... I just can't place exactly-”

“Steve. Look at me.”

Steve froze. He looked up at her. Natasha rarely ever looked stunned. In that moment, Steve wasn't proud that he'd given her cause for it.

“How long were you with them?”

“Natasha,” Sam was frowning.

She held up a hand, silencing him, her eyes focused on Steve.

“Is there any possibility that they did something to you? Drugs? Something to your memory?”

He shook his head rapidly, looking into her eyes steadily.

“No. I don't... think so.”

“You don't _think_ so?”

“Natasha,” Sam said, but he sounded almost weak.

“Did they alter your memory?”

“No!” Steve's eyes widened. “I mean...”

He blinked and looked away. He couldn't meet her gaze now.

“Yes,” he admitted, closing his eyes. He sighed. “At least, I think they did.”

She stared at him in silence. Steve swallowed, unable to look at either of them.

“When did you realize this?”

“I... I think after...” he licked his lips. “After the bridge.”

_'It's nothing personal,' Rumlow said as he was cornered in the elevator, the last man standing._

“Maybe... maybe before. Maybe after... the elevator. I realized something was off. But I didn't know!”

Sam's elbow was on the table now and he was rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

“Steve,” Natasha said and her voice was soft. The blond stood suddenly, shoving his chair back.

“I... I need to go. I need to go to bed. I'm tired.”

He turned and headed quickly to the elevator.

“Steve. Wait!” Natasha called. Sam muttered something but Steve couldn't hear it. He quickly slipped into the elevator as soon as the doors opened and hit the button to make them close.

He leaned against the wall of the elevator for a while.

“JARVIS... if you could please take me to my room.”

“Of course, Captain.”

 

 


	5. Natasha's News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha reveals some news to Sam. Sam tries to help Steve relax. It looks like the two are bound for an exotic destination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here's a chapter that's less angsty than the ones before it. Yay less angst!   
> Warnings for this chapter: Oh, Steve still blames himself. Also, mentions of zombie gore (but no actual zombies) and dissected bunny rabbits. Yes, really.

Sam had no words for what he was feeling.

Not only had Steve been holding this in for God knew how long, but he _didn't even know exactly how long it had been happening_.

What if they altered his memory _more than once?_

He ran a hand over his short hair, reeling.

This wasn't the first time he'd felt out of his depth dealing with trauma or PTSD. As a counselor, he continually came up against issues that made him feel helpless. There was only so much he could do for his clients. Just looking at the files on what Hydra had done to Bucky Barnes honestly made him want to curl up and cry sometimes.

But this. This was sexual assault combined with... with mind control. Sam was already out of his depth when it came to sexual trauma. This was next level fucked up shit.

“Jesus, Natasha.”

“I know.”

He looked up to see her grim expression. He remembered seeing that expression on Steve's face a few times – on his face it usually read as resigned but determined. Sam missed seeing that face, even if it meant shit was about to go down.

Lately Steve had just been like a skittish animal, dodging questions and now...

He shook his head. “I'm glad you thought to ask. I can't believe I didn't...”

“Don't,” she said. “We have enough people blaming themselves around here as it is.”

He winced.

“He does blame himself doesn't he? God,” he closed his eyes. “I can't even imagine...”

“Don't do that either. Don't torture yourself.” She sighed and stood, pushing her chair back. “We need to make a plan, Wilson.”

“A plan?”

“Steve has you. You may not think you're much but-”

“Steve-” Sam scoffed. “Steve needs a real therapist. Somebody certified in dealing with sexual trauma,” his voice broke. Steve, his friend Steve had clearly been taken advantage of – raped.

Who the hell would do something like that to a man like Steve?

Brock Rumlow, of course. _God_ , he wished he'd killed that piece of _shit!_

“Wilson,” Natasha had her hands on the table and was leaning toward him. He looked up.

“Sorry.”

“I know,” she said, gaze burning into his. “I know how you're feeling, believe me. I know how Steve feels right now. I _know_ the games that Hydra plays because the Red Room played the same games.”

He stared up at her, swallowing.

“God, Nat,” he blinked. “I'm sorry.”

She shook her head. “It took me a lot to... find my way out of the dark. But I did. And it was because I had help. I was lucky. I had Clint at my back.” Her lips curled at one corner. “Steve has you and yes he needs a therapist. But right now, he's not ready or willing to hear that.”

Sam nodded.

“Yeah,” he huffed.

“He's stubborn,” she raised an eyebrow wryly. “But I think I know someone almost as stubborn – someone he trusts.”

Sam shook his head. “He'd barely tell me anything about it. He opened up more to you just now.”

“We've known eachother longer. But as he gets to know you, he'll see that you're a good man. And yes, you are a good man.”

Sam felt his face heat. He huffed.

“Thanks.” It really did mean a lot coming from Natasha.

She gave him the small, strange smile she often gave, lips twisting at the corners. His own lips tugged up at one corner.

“Just be there for him. He'll open up to you.”

“What's this plan you're talking about?”

“We need to get Rogers out of here.”

Sam frowned.

“Now?”

“Not now, but soon. The media is going to figure out he's here. That's going to be a serious problem – not just because of the media. There were people crying out for his head after Washington.”

Sam nodded. “I remember.”

“Those people will try to arrest him under some bogus charge.” She leaned in. “If the truth about what happened to him gets out...” her green eyes bore into his. Sam swallowed, then nodded.

“Jesus,” he said, looking away.

“He needs to lie low for a while. I talked to Stark.”

“Oh boy,” he raised an eyebrow. She smirked.

“Don't worry. I made it clear to Tony that it would not be a skiing holiday.”

“Skiing... holiday?”

“I was actually thinking of something warmer,” she shrugged. “Stark has several properties in different locations around the world. One of them is in Hawaii.”

“That sounds... really nice actually,” Sam raised his eyebrows.

She smiled slowly. “Doesn't it? And you get to go with Rogers to Hawaii.”

“I...” Sam winced. “I don't think he's gonna go for that.”

“He will if I tell him Barnes is there.”

“No,” Sam groaned and put his head in his hands. “Please tell me you're not serious.”

“No, of course not,” she scoffed. “But don't tell Rogers I said that.”

“I'm not gonna lie to him.”

“I never said you were going to lie to him,” she shrugged, raising an eyebrow.

“You shouldn't lie to him either.”

“I'm not _lying_ to him. Barnes was _spotted_ in Hawaii.”

Sam sat up.

“And you didn't tell him this... why?”

“Because I knew he would go on a wild goose chase to Hawaii and be disappointed. Barnes _was_ spotted there. He isn't there now.”

“How do you...” he frowned. He tilted his head. “You got a tan recently.”

Natasha snorted, then her lips formed a small smile.

“Maybe.”

“You went to Hawaii!” his eyes widened. “Did you see him?”

“I did.”

“Did he...”

“Try to kill me? No. But he wasn't exactly friendly.”

“How did he look?”

She tilted her head side to side. “Alive. He was wearing clean clothes. Brand new fatigues and then he changed into a set of civilian clothes – really nice ones actually. Nice tourist vibe,” she looked amused. “He was investigating a Hydra cell. Or rather, annihilating it.”

“Good to hear,” Sam nodded, meaning every word.

“I was going to tell Rogers when I got back Tuesday but then I got delayed and... this happened,” she gestured toward the elevator. “So I figured I would wait until I could get Stark to confirm the Hawaii place is available.”

Sam nodded as Natasha stood looking pretty pleased with herself.

“But he's not going to find Barnes there.”

She shrugged. “He might. I just highly doubt he's still there.”

“Where do you think he is?”

She narrowed her eyes.

He rolled his eyes and held up a hand. “I solemnly swear that I will not let Steve drag me across the planet.”

She began to shake with laughter. “I thought you'd already resigned yourself to that.”

“And it turned out that Hydra is a lot harder to dig shit up on than I thought. Turns out they bury their skeletons pretty well.”

“Except for the whole... putting their information on SHIELD servers thing.”

“Yeah, that was pretty stupid of them honestly.”

She snorted. Then she put her hand on his shoulder.

“You're okay with this? Vacay in Hawaii with Rogers?”

“He's gonna be... how does he put it? 'Nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs,'” she smiled as he chuckled. “But I think it will do him some good.”

“I've got some intel he can check out too – if you feel up to it,” she slipped a jump drive out of her pocket and held it out to him. He frowned but reached for it. She held it tighter as he grabbed it and he looked up to her, frowning.

“Only if you feel like he's up to it.”

He nodded. She released the jump drive.

“It's nothing intense as far as I can tell. Just some old bunker of theirs up in the hills. No agents. I just didn't have time to search it.”

“Oh... okay. Are _you_ gonna tell him all this?”

She frowned.

“You can tell him. The Soldier – Barnes, cleared it out by the time I got there and he probably took anything useful anyway. But there might be more.”

“Thanks, Natasha.”

She shook her head. “Thank _you_.”

“Did he...” Sam said as she was heading toward the elevator. She stopped to look at him. “Did he say anything? Barnes, I mean.”

She looked at him solemnly for a few moments. “Yeah. He said, 'Stop following me.'”

Sam watched her shrug and turn.

“You never said where you thought he might be,” he pointed out.

She looked over her shoulder. Her lips tugged at one corner.

“He's probably not in Hawaii anymore.” The doors to the elevator opened and she stepped inside. They exchanged 'good nights' before the doors closed. 

He stood looking at the jump drive for a while. Then he entered the elevator himself, heading to his and Steve's suite. 

 

* * *

 

 

When Sam returned to the apartment, Steve was watching something on the tv.

He froze, then realized he heard groans and the sound of shots as he stood in the doorway. Steve's blue eyes locked with his. His lips stretched into a small smile.

Steve's smile turned wry.

“I'm watching Netflix. I decided now might be a good time to catch up on _The Walking Dead._ ”

“It is a good show,” Sam said. “Mind if I join?”

“Of course not,” Steve frowned and scooted over, patting the couch. Sam sat down and sighed. He let himself get absorbed into the intense conversation between Rick and the Governor.

“You got a lot to catch up on.”

“Yeah,” the blond smiled a little. “I used to...” he fell silent. “Nevermind.”

Sam quietly debated for a moment. Then he gave Steve a slight, encouraging smile.

“Used to what?”

“I used to watch this show... when I started getting involved with... them.”

“I hope they didn't ruin it for you.”

Steve looked up at him, then huffed and shook his head.

“No. I didn't really watch it _with_ them, just... it was around then. I think... I think it was back in October that I first started... maybe sooner.”

Sam shook his head. “I'm sorry, man.”

Steve shrugged. “I'll be fine. Just... wish I hadn't wasted so much time on them, you know?”

Sam nodded.

“I remember when I first started watching this show, Sarah used to tease me because parts of it made me jump.”

“Seriously?” Steve smiled slowly and this time it reached his eyes.

Sam nodded, smirking. Steve chuckled.

“Me too, actually. Some of the moments in this show _can_ get pretty hairy.”

“Yeah. Here's to hoping we'll never have to fight some mad scientist's zombies.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Oh God, knock on wood!” he reached down to knock on a coffee table leg and Sam laughed.

“Seriously!”

“Sounds like something Hydra would do,” Steve joked and Sam rolled his eyes.

“That reminds me... did you know there's a movie with zombies that are Nazi zombies?”

Steve gave him a bemused look.

“ _What?”_

 

They ended up watching _Dead Snow._ Steve couldn't help but shake his head.

“Why are people in horror movies so _stupid?_ ”

“I know, right? Drives me crazy.”

“At least the Nazi zombies are well organized.”

Sam coughed on the popcorn he'd made and Steve grinned and thumped him on the back.

“I can't lose you, Sam!”

“You won't lose me,” he coughed, laughing. “I'm just enjoying your appreciation of well organized zombies.”

“Well you have to admit, they seem a little more bright than your usual zombies.”

“That they are. Maybe it's cause Hydra gave them some kind of serum.”

Steve burst into laughter. “That's how they survived in the ice all this time, right?”

It took them a while to stop laughing. They would calm down and then glance at eachother and start again. Finally, Steve was resting his head against the back of the couch and eating popcorn, smiling at the screen. Sam slowly raised his phone without thinking.

Steve glanced over at him, eyes widening, a hand holding popcorn paused on the way to his face.

“No,” he held up his hand, sitting up. “Please, I don't...”

Sam's smile faded. “Oh. I'm sorry.” he lowered the camera and closed his eyes, shaking his head. “Just... thought it'd be a good picture.”

Steve's lips stretched into a smile, then he looked down at the popcorn bowl.

“It's fine. I just... Sorry.”

“No, no. I'm sorry.”

“ _I'm_ sorry,” Steve insisted, his lips curling up at the ends. Sam chuckled.

“No, _I'm_ sorry.”

“I'm sorriest.”

“I'm sorry _times infinity_ , so I win.”

“That...” Steve frowned. “That makes no sense. You can't multiply something by infinity.”

“Yeah you can. It just results in the infinity symbol.”

Steve made a face. “Really?”

'Disaster averted,' Sam thought. He scrolled around on his phone and opened a browser, then searched. He showed Steve the symbol.

“It just equals itself.”

“Huh,” Steve peered at the screen, then nodded. “I've seen the symbol before.”

“Yeah.” Sam nodded. “So I win.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Okay,” his smile had returned as he looked to the screen. “Sam, you win the title of Sorriest.”

“Yes,” he fist pumped and Steve snorted, then shook his head.

“So Natasha's probably gonna tell you, but-”Sam glanced at his phone. There were two new text messages waiting on his phone. He ignored them.

“But what?” Steve looked to him.

“She talked to Stark and apparently he's got a nice place in Hawaii. Now, I myself have _always wanted_ to visit Hawaii.”

“She wants me to lie low,” Steve said after frowning for a few moments. Then he shook his head, looking back to the screen. “I'm not leaving New York, Sam.”

Sam internally sighed as he watched the token hot girl in the movie get attacked by a zombie.

“Bucky might return to Brooklyn.”

“Natasha doesn't seem to think so,” he pointed out.

“Well...” Suddenly Steve's head whipped to look at him. “Wait, what did she say?”

Oh shit.

“She said that he's been spotted in Hawaii.”

Steve eyed him. Then his eyes narrowed. Sam couldn't help but smile a little.

“That's what she said,” he pointed out, holding his hands up. Steve huffed and returned his attention to the movie. Sam allowed himself a smirk at the words he'd just uttered.

“Not that I'm _saying_ she'd lie,” Steve said and Sam couldn't resist laughing at that. “But where exactly did she hear this?”

“I'll let her tell you all that. Anyway, she told me about a Hydra cell in Hawaii.”

Steve stiffened, then sat up.

“In _Hawaii?_ ”

Sam pulled the jump drive out of his pocket. Steve reached for it.

“Hold on,” he said. “I haven't looked at it yet. We can look together.”

Steve frowned, then nodded. He shut the tv off and Sam grabbed his laptop. Steve put the popcorn aside and they slipped the drive into the laptop.

“When were you going to tell me about this?” Steve sounded a little annoyed. He had a raised eyebrow.

“Natasha seemed to think I should wait until you seemed like you were ready for it.”

Steve scowled.

“Ready for it? Why wouldn't I be?”

Sam gave him a pointed look. Steve stared back. His brow furrowed and Sam saw the exact moment when it sunk in.

“Sam... you trust me, right?”

“Of course I trust you. It's not a matter of trust, Steve.”

“Well it sure feels like it.”

“Steve... Natasha was there.”

Steve's eyes widened.

“Did she...”

“She said she saw him. He spoke to her.”

“How is he?” Steve looked desperate. “Is he okay?”

“She said that he was wearing clean clothes. I'll let her tell you the rest. She wouldn't tell me much-”

“When did she tell you all this?”

“After you left the dining room.”

Steve frowned. “Why didn't she tell me?”

“I'm guessing she's been planning to tell you at some point. She just got back from Hawaii and she's been waiting to talk to you. Then this happened.”

Steve seemed to sink in on himself and Sam closed his eyes for a moment, hating himself.

“Steve... It's not that I think you can't handle it.”

“Well, clearly not, if I'm not ready for it.”

“I think... I think you need time to _heal._ ”

Steve frowned.

“I have a serum, Sam. And I'm hardly injured-”

“Steve, you know this isn't... wasn't just a physical thing.” Sam gave him a look. Steve's eyes turned hard.

“Are you suggesting that I... that I'm loyal to them? To Hydra?”

“What? No! Steve,” he shook his head and closed his eyes, sighing. Then he looked the other man in the eyes. “Steve, I'm suggesting that this was psychological. It was meant to harm you.”

“Well... I'm hardly... weak, Sam.”

“I know you're not weak,” Sam stared into the blue eyes where he'd seen a glint of doubt. “You're one of the strongest people I've ever met. But nobody gets treated like that and just walks away from it at a hundred percent. You're a human being. You need time.”

“I don't have time. _Bucky_ doesn't have time. He needs our help.”

Sam tried to think how to phrase his next words.

“From what it sounds like, your friend is doing just fine making himself a serious nuisance to Hydra.”

“What if he gets caught by them? Sam, they could recapture him...” Steve shifted restlessly. “What if they e-erase his memory again?”

His eyes were distressed and Sam sighed.

“Steve... If you and I could barely hunt him down and he got away from Natasha, I highly doubt Hydra is going to get him back.”

“They kept him prisoner for seventy years,” Steve said. Sam nodded.

“But it sounds like he's getting himself back. And he's taking care of himself. That's a good sign. You've got to give him some faith too, Steve.”

The blond sighed.

“You think we should go to Hawaii?” he asked after a while.

Sam looked at the screen of his laptop. He began to open the jump drive.

“I don't know,” he admitted. “It's supposed to be so you can lay low for a while. Relax.”

Steve scoffed. “I don't see how I can relax a thousand miles away from New York. What if something happens here and the Avengers are needed?”

Sam tilted his head as he clicked the files open. “I guess that's possible... But you're not the only Avenger, you know.”

Steve frowned.

“But I'm the team leader. As it is, we need to start training again. I was thinking...” he looked off thoughtfully. “Now that I don't exactly have SHIELD anymore, maybe we could focus on finishing off Hydra as a team. I was going to ask the others,” he added, raising a hand. “To see how they feel about it. If they're willing... JARVIS can help us hunt down intel, after all.”

“Here we go...” he felt Steve leaning closer to eye a document. “Looks like some kind of schedule. Tests maybe?”

“Knowing Hydra, nothing pleasant.”

“Definitely looks like they were testing something,” Sam eyed the document. He scrolled down to find more scanned documents. There were photos too. A man was holding a live rabbit in one, injecting something into its mouth. Sam made a face.

He glanced over and saw Steve shudder.

“Maybe we should ask Bruce about these chemicals?” Sam suggested. Steve nodded.

“That might be a good idea. He'll probably have some idea of what Hydra was up to.”

“Hawaii has all kinds of wildlife. Whatever they were testing, probably pretty important.”

“Natasha didn't follow this up?”

“Said she didn't have time. She was going to let us investigate, see what we find.”

Steve nodded. He seemed to be considering.

“Well it sounds... like a good lead.” He said. “I just thought maybe Natasha was baiting me over there.”

Sam couldn't help but smile. Then he started laughing.

“Is she?” Steve's jaw dropped and his eyes widened. Then he rolled his eyes. “She is, isn't she?”

“Well it does seem like we found something,” Sam said. “And in her defense, I think she's just trying to get you up and moving so you'll feel better.” He shrugged. “It might do you some good.”

Steve tilted his head. “You think so?”

He nodded. “And of course, I'd be going along.”

Steve frowned. “I don't want you to think-”

“Don't. Don't you start that.”

“You didn't let me finish!”

“You think I'm going with you out of some sense of obligation. That's not it. I really wanna go to Hawaii.” He smiled. “And also, I want to see this through. I want to help you find Bucky.”

Steve nodded. Then he looked Sam in the eye.

“Even if he doesn't seem to want to be found?”

He thought about it. “I think you guys should _at least_ talk.”

Steve nodded again. Then he smiled slightly.

“Thank you.”

“Hey, don't thank me yet. We've still got more to look through on this thing,” Sam clicked another file open, then groaned.

“Well you know what I... aughh,” Steve closed his eyes too. They both forced their eyes open again though.

“Looks like... dissection,” Sam made a face at the rabbit cut in half.

“Hydra killing bunny rabbits. I'm not surprised.”

“Did you just,” Sam started to laugh. Steve smiled at him. When he kept laughing, the blond elbowed him playfully. “Bunny rabbits. Looks like they're in trouble. Is that a job for Captain America?” Sam smiled, glancing to him.

Steve's face had gone pale. He blinked and looked away, while Sam's smile faded.

“Hey. What is it?”

“I guess I just realized... Everybody out there.”

“Steve.”

The blond shook his head. “I'm sorry. I'm being such a narcissist.”

“No. No you're not,” Sam rested a hand on his shoulder. “You're not. I'd feel the same way if it were me. You have every right to be upset.”

Steve wished he could agree.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Sam bonding over tv zombies has to be one of my favorite scenes I've written :)


	6. The Vortex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve has a brush with his online media reputation and gets ready to face the music. Tony Stark even has some advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, it's been like a month since I updated this thing. Sorry about that! Summer needs to slow down cause it's going way too fast for me! 
> 
> Note: Steve blames himself some more in this chapter. Fear not, this will soon be dealt with by his friends. But keep in mind that I in no way think the way Steve thinks about himself is healthy or okay. The media also isn't helping in the story and keep in mind the public doesn't know it was assault so they're reacting as if it's a sex scandal. Of course we all know the media/public doesn't react well even when dealing with known assault, so there you go. I just wanted to make it clear that I don't support victim blaming. Just trying to portray Steve's thoughts.

Later that night, Steve was sitting up, watching _The Walking Dead_. Sam had already gone to bed. That was when Steve glanced at Sam's laptop, still open on the table. They'd browsed through the files but hadn't made much sense of them. Steve had asked JARVIS to forward the files to Bruce, to see what he might think. Bruce had replied with a message that he'd take a look at the files and let them know what he thought.

He picked up the laptop and rested it on his lap. Then he glanced at the bottom right corner to see the wifi signal. It was picking up the wireless internet.

He opened an internet browser. For a moment, he sat there, staring at the Google search engine. Then he began to type in the search terms.

He frowned after what felt like almost a minute of the search engine loading.

“JARVIS?”

“Yes, Captain?”

“Is something wrong with the internet?” Steve couldn't help feeling how absurd his question sounded even as he asked it. Something wrong with the internet in the most advanced Tower on the planet. Right.

But it was taking a really long time to load the browser window. His eyes narrowed as he eyed the ceiling.

“I'm sorry, Captain, but Sir and Agent Romanoff made it clear that you should not be able to access any news related to your situation.”

“I...” Steve gasped. “I have a right to know what people are saying about me, don't I?”

“Sir is awake in the workshop if you would like-”

“I would like!” Steve snapped, setting the laptop aside. “I'm sorry, JARVIS. I'm not upset at you.”

“I understand, Captain. Shall I tell Sir you'll be on your way up?”

“Go ahead,” Steve said, moving to the elevator. “Let him know!” He grumbled to himself. “I can't believe this! What am I, a child?”

 

* * *

 

“You don't wanna look in that abyss, Cap,” Tony called when Steve entered his lab. He was currently working on what looked like a slender robot.

Steve frowned at the creature on the table. It was metallic and humanoid in shape.

“What is that?”

“Potential peacekeeper model,” Tony set down the... wrench thing that he was using and picked up a plate of leftover noodles. “Want some?” he gestured at the plate with some chopsticks. Steve shook his head.

“I want to know why I have _parental controls_ on my internet access.”

Tony raised an eyebrow and Steve felt his cheeks color.

“To be honest, it was more _Romanoff's_ idea than mine,” he lowered his voice. “She's a little protective of you. It's kinda cute actually.”

“Tony, look, I get that she doesn't want me to be upset. But I will be far more upset if I just sit around wondering-”

“That reminds me. I thought she had a mission for you. If you choose to accept it. Please tell me you get that reference.”

“I do,” Steve said with a sigh. “ _Mission: Impossible_. But I'm not leaving tonight. And I'd like to be able to see-”

“I'm telling you you really don't,” Tony said. “See, Cap-”

“Steve.”

Tony froze. “Oh. Okay,” he looked surprised. “Steve.”

'You've seen my naked body,' he thought. 'Probably. We're beyond first names, I think.'

“I've told you before that you can call me Steve.” He frowned. “Didn't I?”

“Yeah.” Tony nodded. “I just like calling you Capsicle.”

“Thank you,” Steve lifted an eyebrow. “And I understand your concern-”

“I don't think you do. Let me explain.” Tony took a sip from a water bottle, then set it aside. “I was where you were once,” he strolled away.

“So I've heard.”

“Except that it wasn't my worst enemies.” Tony's gaze was level. Steve's jaw clenched and the inventor raised his hands. “I'm not judging-”

“How did you know?”

“Natasha filled me in. Shared her suspicions anyway. Like I was saying, Steve. I know how this goes. You tell yourself you're just gonna have a peek, see what people are saying. But it doesn't end there. You end up on forums, reading bullshit written by barely literate assholes _who don't know you_. Who don't know your situation.”

“Tony. Please.”

The dark haired man breathed in and out slowly. Then he lowered his hands.

“Okay. Fine. Don't take my experience tested advice.”

“I appreciate the advice-”

“Then listen to it,” Steve had never seen Tony look so earnest. “Trust me. You _really_ don't want to do this to yourself. The internet is a _vortex_ of drama. The more you feed into it, the worse it gets.”

Steve was silent for a moment. Then he nodded. He blinked and looked down at the floor, fingers tugging at one of his own nails.

“I appreciate it you know,” he looked up. “Letting me and Sam stay here-”

Tony shook his head and waved him off.

“Let me thank you,” Steve lifted an eyebrow. “You're a good friend.”

Tony held up his hands. “Thank you, thank you. You're welcome to come and praise me any time.”

Steve smiled a little. He glanced at the robot.

“Can I ask what you're working on?”

“Told you. Peacekeeper. Potential anyway,” Tony strolled back over to the table and Steve followed. “I'd love to use vibranium but I've had to settle for a composite.”

“I'm not sure I like the idea of a robot stronger than my shield anyway,” Steve mused. Tony gave him a look.

“They're _peacekeepers_ , Steve-o.”

“Don't I have enough nicknames?”

“Nope.” Tony picked up his wrench thingamabob. “Wanna help me?”

“Sure,” Steve shifted. “What do you need me to do?”

“Lift this leg. I could have DUM-E do it but he's charging,” Tony lowered his voice as he glanced over at the bot at its charging station, as if it were a sleeping child. Steve smiled a little, amused, and stepped around Tony before he lifted the top leg of the robot.

“Thanks, hot stuff.”

Steve froze.

“What?”

“Hm?” Tony glanced up from where he'd started taking a metal plate off the robot's inner thigh, or what Steve guessed to be an inner thigh.

“You called me _hot stuff._ ”

“Oh,” Tony winked. “Well... you know.”

“No, I don't know, Tony,” Steve felt his face flooding with color. He'd thought Tony understood.

“Okay, okay,” the inventor straightened with a sigh, holding his hands up. “I'm sorry. That was a little insensitive.”

“Just a bit, yeah.” Steve said, blinking away. He knew he was making a mountain out of a molehill, but... “I'm sorry, I just...”

“No, no, it's fine. Look, I... I make jokes about things. It's how I deal.”

Steve nodded.

“I'm sorry,” Tony said. The taller man nodded again.

“Okay.”

Tony continued working with a shrug. After a while, he started to chatter about various things, mainly his plans for a peacekeeping force. Steve teased him about having secret plans for world domination.

“I think that's more your ex boyfriends' realm of exp-” Tony said. Then he froze. He looked up at Steve.

Steve slowly set the robot leg down. Then he began to leave the lab.

“No no no no-”

Steve slammed the door behind him.

JARVIS sighed in the elevator. “Sir wishes me to extend the message that he is very, very sorry for his _embarrassingly_ poor taste in humor.”

“Thank you, JARVIS,” Steve said, secretly pleased at the AI's disdain. “I don't know how you became such a reasonable person with a man like Tony Stark around.”

“Sir has his moments,” JARVIS said. Steve shifted, feeling a little guilty now. After all...

“I'm sorry. I'm sure he does. I just... I'm not feeling very humorous about the situation.”

“Of course, Captain.”

“Please call me Steve?” he said.

“Yes, Steve.”

His shoulders relaxed. “Thank you. And... tell Tony not to worry about it. I'm just tired.”

“Of course, sir.”

He got off on his own floor and looked at the laptop on the couch. With a sigh, he shook his head and decided to get some sleep. 

 

* * *

 

 

He didn't actually sleep well that night.

Sometimes in the wee hours, he woke up kicking and sweating, a shout trapped in his throat.

He gasped, breathing rapidly as the lights in his room slowly turned up. JARVIS spoke.

“It is three thirty four a.m, May twenty first of twenty fourteen, sir. You are in Stark Tower, Manhattan, New York City, New York.”

Steve closed his eyes and exhaled slowly as he sat up.

“Thank you JARVIS,” he rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “I just... had a dream.”

He shivered. He could still feel Jack Rollins breathing against his ear, smell his scent. The worst part was the arousal between his thighs.

Filled with a silent fury, he scrambled out of the bed and moved into the bathroom. He ran the shower water as cold as he could and stepped under it, grimacing. Steve pressed his palms against the shower wall and winced as the cold water sluiced down into his hair and over his body. He hissed slightly when it touched his groin. When he soaped up his chest, his fingers brushed over a nipple and made him shudder.

The piercings had long since healed, of course, but it didn't mean...

Steve washed himself in as utilitarian a fashion as he could. Maybe it was the fact that he hadn't really had much physical contact, but just soaping his groin made his cock perk with interest.

He hadn't touched himself in at least two months – that he recalled, anyway. That was the worst thing about it all; the uncertainty. He could only imagine what it must feel like for Bucky.

Steve felt guilty feeling sorry for himself whenever he thought of Bucky and what his friend must have been through. Everything they'd done to Steve paled in comparison.

He shut the water off when he felt calmer and grabbed a towel. He recalled the memory of the touch of metal fingers, the taste of food... No.

No. He closed his eyes tightly and cursed his mind, playing tricks on him. Bucky hadn't been there. _Thank God_ Bucky hadn't been there.

Steve quickly dried off, then rubbed the towel over his hair. He combed it, glaring into the mirror.

His own body betrayed him, desiring the men who'd done this to him.

Desiring _Jack._

He stared into the mirror and felt his chest caving in. Steve lifted a hand to his own neck, fingers brushing against it. He thought of the collar. Of how he'd burrowed against Jack, after his beating.

Allowed them to clean him up, dress him, put Jack's sweatshirt on him. Comfort him and... and make him believe that they had given him a gift.

He'd not only accepted the collar. He'd not only not fought back.

He'd _thanked_ Jack. For beating him. For...

No.

He glared at himself in the mirror. You couldn't claim to be raped when you let it happen, he thought in disgust.

He tossed the towel onto the bathroom counter, then headed back into his bedroom. Turning the light on, he went to the dresser and slipped out a fresh pair of underwear and a pair of sweatpants. After wriggling into them, he tugged on a simple light gray tee. He didn't like the collar being so close to his neck, but he preferred it to being bare chested.

Steve stood in the bedroom for a moment. Then he went to his bag and fished out his tablet.

It was the latest Starkpad – Tony always sent all of his teammates the newest update. Steve still had the old one lying around back at his apartment. He turned it on and watched as it picked up the wireless signal.

Then he opened a browser. His stomach twisting, he typed in the same words he'd typed earlier:

“captain america”

Strange how it seemed like such an innocuous phrase.

He eyed the first link that came up: “Who Is Behind the Camera? Captain America Sex Scandal Poses More Questions than Answers.”

He felt his stomach twist at the echo of Natasha's question. After a moment, he clicked on the link. It led him to an article on Buzzfeed.

His face flushed as he saw a picture of himself in his uniform with his shield. It was from a charity benefit from a year before, for a children's home in New York. The caption underneath read 'Children's champion is no longer safe for children to look at.'

He blinked several times, his eyes growing hot. Oh God...

There were _kids_ who looked up to him. He hadn't even really thought about it.

His eyes began to scan the article.

“If you've been living under a rock, Captain Rogers's sexy pictures are all over the internet.”

There was a link in the middle of the sentence, attached to the words 'Captain Rogers's sexy pictures.' Steve frowned and touched it. Another article opened, this one talking about how the pictures had appeared online.

He thought of the day before, how Sam had come in from the run and found Steve gripping his hair.

Steve didn't remember breaking the coffee table, not really. He remembered slamming a fist into it and cursing. He remembered he sound of his own breaths, and hearing distressed noises. How he'd eventually realized that the gasping and noises were coming from his own throat.

He'd looked at the screen and remembered Jack laughing, taunting him.

_'You can’t even run away. You’ve been smiling for the camera for months now... What were you thinking? What’ll people say? What’ll they say when someone leaks pictures of Captain America taking it up the ass?”_

He realized he was staring at the screen of the Starkpad unfocused, just like he'd stared at the tv. He hadn't recalled everything Jack said. He still didn't.

It had taken a few weeks to remember the night the truth came out. The night Brock put that gag on him with the crank. He hadn't known what to think of the memories at first. He'd thought maybe they were daydreams or embarrassing fantasies.

He still didn't remember all of it – just pieces. Enough to realize what a fool he'd been.

He blinked against the hot moisture in his eyes and sniffed. Then he shook his head, cursing himself.

'You don't have any right,' he thought. 'You don't have any right to be upset.'

He thought of what Sam had told him earlier on the couch. But Sam didn't know... Sam didn't know how Steve had keened for them, begged them. If Sam saw how Steve had... had writhed on their-

He choked, covering his mouth with a hand. _Had_ Sam seen?

He'd been getting texts from Rumlow, hadn't he? Was he still getting them?

Had they moved on to sending Sam _videos?_

He shook his head, closing his eyes tightly. 'Oh god, no please, no...'

Sam would never want to talk to him again. Sam might _pretend_ to be his friend, just to be kind, because he was a good man. But secretly he would be disgusted.

And Natasha... Natasha didn't think he could handle anything anymore. She was right, really. What reason did she have to trust Steve Rogers when he clearly had such bad judgment?

His hand clenched slightly on the Starkpad and the plastic creaked. He loosened his grip, remembering his phone earlier. Really, it was a blessing he'd broken the damn thing. Now at least he wouldn't be taunted by Rumlow.

He blinked at the screen and sighed. The article he'd clicked started with “Steve Rogers, the man behind the shield, also known by his wartime moniker Captain America has a lot more hiding behind the shield than we initially thought...”

Hiding. Right. What he was doing now.

He inhaled, then exhaled slowly. Steve decided to check his email. Then he stopped as he started to log in to it. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea.

It wasn't his SHIELD email. His SHIELD account wasn't safe anymore, of course – Steve hadn't even bothered logging into it for weeks. If Natasha sent him anything – especially anything she found on Bucky - it was usually to another, unofficial randomly named account he had.

This email account was usually the one people like Pepper Potts used to get a hold of him. He found that it mostly held spam, but he saw one email and his brows furrowed. He recognized it as the leader of the foundation that funded the children's home. It had been sent earlier that day.

He opened it.

 

“Dear Captain Rogers,

I hope you are well in this difficult time. I regret to inform you that the board has decided that in the current media climate, we cannot have you as a spokesperson. We will be removing you as a speaker for the July fourth event.

Please understand that this is not a personal choice and if I had it my way, this would not be the case. However we must keep the foundation's best interests in mind. I hope that you can understand. I hope that the situation clears up soon.

Please understand that this does not mean you are not welcome to attend the event as we would still be honored to have you.

Thank you for all of the good work you do,

Margaret P Leavenworth.”

 

He stared at the words for a while. Then he blinked several time to clear the blur from his view.

He had disappointed people. He had hurt people.

'Stop it. Stop sitting here crying and feeling sorry for yourself.'

He took a deep breath and checked his email. He hadn't had any other events coming up, except a planned appearance for Habitat for Humanity. He didn't see any such email from them.

Steve closed the email window then found himself looking at the original article he'd left open.

“Obscene pictures of the good Captain were uploaded to 4chan's “History and Humanities” board (Whoever posted them there has a great sense of humor by the way) earlier this morning around three forty five am.”

He couldn't read anymore. He closed it.

Right. A good sense of humor.

He remembered laughing at the banter between the two men during so many meals. Lunches spent trying not to choke on his food when Brock said something particularly ridiculous.

He didn't remember a lot of specific occasions, but he remembered how he used to spend meals the way he remembered he used to walk home with Bucky after school.

He shut off the tablet, having seen enough. Steve didn't need to see people's comments. He had a feeling he'd seen enough of the internet over the last few years to know how people would react to this.

It was now six thirty in the morning. Normally he'd be going for a jog.

With a sigh, Steve decided to actually try and get more sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

Sam had made himself some coffee when his phone buzzed again.

He looked at it and saw that the two newest text messages from the night before – neither of which he'd opened – were from the same unlisted number. The most recent text, however, was from Pepper Potts.

“Please have Steve call me when he's able. JARVIS can open a secure window.”

Sam texted her back with an 'Ok, sure,' then took his coffee into the living room. He froze as he saw his laptop resting on the couch. It had gone into hibernation mode sometime during the night, the USB still attached to it. Setting his coffee down on the night table, he sat down and picked the laptop up, setting it on his lap.

After waiting for it to come on, he saw that an internet browser was open. He opened the window and his face fell as he saw the Google search page that had loaded.

None of the articles had apparently been clicked, thank God. He sighed at the first one – some loudmouthed right wing blowhard was calling for Steve to be _arrested_. What exactly _for_ , Sam really had to wonder. It wasn't like having kinky gay sex was a _crime_.

There was the issue of the Triskelion, but nobody really had anything to arrest Steve for on that _either_. It would be pretty awkward to arrest the guy who helped save millions of people from annihilation and even with this newest, bad press circulating in the media there would be people who would stand up for Steve if anyone tried to cart him away in handcuffs.

With a roll of his eyes, he scrolled down to see other articles. The title of one guessed at the origin of the photos and who was behind the camera – something Sam dearly hoped no one would ever figure out. He clicked on the article title and read it.

His stomach dropped as he neared the bottom.

“Some suspect that these photos may have been leaked by an ex lover of the good Captain's – possibly a disgruntled member of SHIELD.”

Something about the phrase 'disgruntled member of SHIELD,' made him let out a dry laugh. He shook his head and closed the window.

“Jesus,” he said, putting the laptop back on the coffee table. He picked up his mug and took a sip. Then he rose and decided to head back into the kitchen.

Sam passed the hallway as he was heading into the kitchen and stopped. He turned to see that the door to Steve's bedroom was open.

He stepped up to the doorway and peered in, curious.

Steve was turned toward the door, his eyes closed, one hand under his jaw, gripping the pillow beneath his head. His dark blond lashes fanned over his cheeks and his brow, usually furrowed in thought, was relaxed. The light from the window at the head of the bed showed the healthy pallor of his skin, though there were circles under the man's eyes.

He couldn't help but stand for a moment and just look. Steve was a beautiful man.

Sam had always known that, from the first time he looked at him. There wasn't really anything delicate about Steve, but there was something vulnerable underneath all the chiseled muscle. It was something about the man's eyes. They could be shy, they could be open, or they could be as hard and obscure as onyx. To those he considered friends they could fluctuate from being full of warm humor to being so open that it was almost painful to see. On occasion, they would become opaque when Steve felt he needed to hide how he felt. Sam felt privileged that the latter had become infrequent around him.

He smiled a little, remembering the first time he saw the super soldier, running past him. He'd thought it was just some jackass on a raw diet or something – somebody with olympic, next level skills.

He chuckled softly, remembering how annoyed he'd been.

Then Steve slowed down by the tree he was leaning against and they spoke and Sam found himself spellbound. Not just because he was talking to Captain America on his morning run, but because of Steve himself. He was so friendly, familiar even, and at the same time, so otherworldly – a man from another time period who seemed to want nothing more than to fit in with the twenty first century.

He remembered the elation he felt when he looked up at the group meeting he held at the VA center and he saw Steve in the doorway. How his blue jacket brought out his eyes. How he suddenly looked so small and so out of his element that it almost made Sam hurt to see it. Sam was used to seeing veterans, used to seeing their pain, hearing the ache in their voices when they spoke of the things they were ashamed of, of their regrets. He'd never really stopped hurting with them but somewhere along the line it had all become routine.

Meeting Steve, it was like relearning what it was to see when someone carried their pain with them. The man's pain was an aura and Sam had never really been one to believe in things like auras. It followed Steve around like a cloud and sometimes it was breathtaking. It brought back the memory of sand and rocks far, far below, and falling, falling forever, and watching as Riley-

 

Steve's eyelashes fluttered. Sam froze as he watched the blue eyes blink and clear. Then they were on him. Steve blinked again and sat up, staring.

“Hey.”

“Hey, man.” Sam felt his cheeks heat up. He hadn't meant to get caught staring.

“Something going on?” Steve's brows furrowed.

“Nah,” Sam shook his head. “I was just checking in on you. You hungry? I was gonna make some breakfast.” He jerked a thumb toward the kitchen.

Steve looked at him for a moment, then nodded, a hand moving to rub the back of his neck.

“Sure.”

Sam nodded. “Got some coffee ready too, if you want.”

“Yeah. I'll be in there in a sec,” Steve's lips stretched at a corner. Sam nodded and turned to head into the kitchen.

He grimaced at himself, rolling his eyes. Resting his coffee on the counter, he berated himself as he foraged in the fridge for eggs and some bacon. What an idiot!

He tried to ignore the speedy beating of his heart and the warmth in his belly. He couldn't be thinking of his friend like this. Especially not while Steve was feeling so low.

Especially not while he was taken advantage of by fucking _Hydra_.

Sam tried not think about the photos he'd been sent by text as he began to prepare breakfast. The photos the night before had been even more disgusting – not because it was Steve, but because of what was being done to him.

What bothered him the most was one of Steve bound and gagged, lying next to who he guessed to be Rumlow – he couldn't see the person's face, only their arms, torso, and legs. The blond looked exhausted and had bags under his eyes. There were healing bruises and scratches along his body and some suggested the pattern of a belt or a knife.

He realized he was gripping the frying pan's handle tightly and he took a deep breath.

“Hey,” Steve said, giving him a shy smile before moving over to the coffee pot. Sam blinked against the moisture in his eyes.

“Hey.”

“Are you okay?” Steve's voice was so soft and his eyes so concerned that Sam almost wanted to laugh. The man's reputation was in tatters, he'd been violated in every way Sam could conceive of and he was asking if _Sam_ was okay.

“Yeah man,” he smiled incredulously. “I'm fine.” He reached out and squeezed Steve's shoulder. He didn't miss the way the man's face flooded with color at the touch. Not to mention how he ducked his head and lowered his eyes to the side, the way his lips stretched at the corner...

'Holy shit,' he thought, his heart racing.

Steve seemed to want to say something, then fell quiet.

“I'll um. Get some coffee.”

“Yeah. Sure,” Sam quickly pulled his hand away, then went back to moving the eggs, which were about to burn, off the oven. He was really starting to think he should pray or something. Not for Steve – for himself because he didn't know how he was going to get through this without some kind of supernatural help.

'I'm in way over my head.'

 

* * *

 

 

Steve met with Pepper Potts in the living room while Sam was off in the training room of Stark Tower. He'd promised to meet up with his friend after he talked to the CEO of Stark Industries.

Unfortunately, part of Pepper Potts's duties often ended up being public relations for the Avengers even if they weren't her 'official' duties. But she didn't hold it against anyone and she certainly didn't look upset with Steve. If anything, she seemed fresh and cheerful as always. Still, he could see the strain around her eyes. His stomach sank at causing such a hardworking, professional person like Pepper such an inconvenience.

“Thank you for calling me, Steve. I know you're having a hard time right now.”

He forced a small smile and nodded.

“Well, I'm sure you're much busier than I am. Thank you for taking time out of your schedule for me. I want to say I'm... I'm sorry for all of this-” Not to mention the shame and embarrassment, he thought.

“No, no,” she waved her hands. Pepper was sitting at a desk with a large window behind her. The sky looked sunny and beautiful in... Malibu was it? Steve realized he didn't even know where she was and it made him feel guilty. “Steve, I want to talk to you about what you're planning to do next.”

He blinked in surprise. “Do next?”

“I know you have something you want to attend to. Tony tells me that you want to look for your friend. And from what I know you're still interested in carrying on the Avenger's Initiative?”

Steve nodded. “Of course.”

“There will be a team meeting about this at some point, but... the Avenger's Initiative is going to be exclusively funded by Stark Industries in future, since SHIELD will no longer be able to provide.”

“Right,” Steve nodded. He hadn't really taken much time to think about it, honestly. “I understand.”

“Of course Tony has also been working with Maria Hill to gather whatever remains of SHIELD.”

Steve nodded again. So he'd heard.

“But it will be some time before SHIELD is able to operate independently again,” she sighed. “It seems that SHIELD is divided these days – between those who pledge their allegiance to the government and those who believe SHIELD should operate independently. Of course, under Stark Industries's funds, it would hardly be independent...” She waved a hand. “Anyway, this will all be discussed at some point, I'm sure,” she smiled wearily. “Please, tell me – how are you doing?

He stared at her for a moment. His mind was still racing with everything. He hadn't really thought much lately about what the fall of SHIELD would mean for the Avenger's Initiative, nor had he ever suspected SHIELD might seriously be resurrected. The Avengers had talked, somewhat – or at least, Tony had – about pulling the team back together for times when they were needed.

“Nothing about this has to change,” were the exact words Tony used. “You're all still welcome in the tower, also, by the way, which I _renamed_.” And then the man had gestured emphatically toward ceiling, in the direction of the gigantic 'A' recently added near the roof of the tower, by Tony's lab.

Pepper was watching him quietly, patiently. Steve opened his mouth, his lips working. Then he licked his lips and started over.

“I'm... fine,” he said with a weary smile of his own. “Honestly, Pepper, I can't thank you enough – you and Tony-”

“Please. You're our friend.”

Steve blinked several times. It was one thing for Tony to brush it off. Tony brushed everything off, but Pepper Potts worked so hard to keep Stark Industries going. She'd had to deal with Tony's disastrous past behavior – and really Steve was no one to judge nowadays.

“Still,” he managed. “I would have been stuck in an apartment in DC, probably stalked by the media,” he scoffed. “If you and Tony hadn't invited me and Sam here while I sorted everything out.”

“You'll always have a home at Stark tower, Steve,” her eyes were warm and earnest. He found himself unable to speak, looking down at his lap.

“In the meantime – while you're working out your next steps, I was wondering if we could talk PR.”

He winced and she let out a soft laugh.

“I know. It's.. .daunting. But I want you to know, Tony and I have dealt with so much worse. And I'm not saying that to make you feel bad. If anything, despite what it looks like in the media, you do have a strong supportive base. There are so many people in SHIELD who will speak up for you; doing what needed to be done and at your own personal risk-”

“Pepper.”

“Yes?”

“I... I don't know what I can do about... PR,” he sighed. “I don't even know if anything I say will make a difference. Or even if it should.”

“What do you mean 'if it should?'” Her voice was soft.

He breathed in deeply.

“I just feel like maybe it's... maybe it's time people saw me for who I really am.”

Pepper was watching him quietly.

“And who is that, Steve?”

'A failure,' he thought. 'A loser. A whore. A total traitor. Weak.'

A disappointment, no doubt.

“Flawed,” he settled.

She smiled, but it wasn't happy.

“Steve. Believe me when I say that Tony has survived infinitely worse than this. Stark Industries has gone through some pretty rough periods. One sex scandal is not going to break the Avengers.”

Hearing her say 'sex scandal' and 'Avengers' in the same sentence made him cringe.

Captain America, sex scandal. That was all anyone was going to see or think now. He was just going to be a joke from now on.

“Steve,” she said softly. He looked up. Right. He was wasting her time.

“I'm sorry, Pepper. I can call at another time if that's more convenient-”

“No, no,” she waved a hand. “Steve. Look... I was thinking maybe you just need some time, a couple of days... and then we could put together a press conference.”

The bottom of his stomach seemed to fall out and for a moment Steve wondered if the tower was swaying or if it was just his imagination.

“I'm not sure...”

“I know. It's a lot to ask right now,” Pepper nodded. “But I think it would really help – just to let some of the craze die down. Then address the issues and move on.”

“Issues?” He frowned. “You mean the Triskelion.”

“Right,” she nodded. “I think it would really help. I can schedule an appointment with our PR Rep – Myla. You've met her before. She'll help you figure out what to talk about during the press conference, what topics to avoid. While we're getting that ready, you can meet with the team and you can all discuss what direction you want to take the Avengers in.”

Steve thought about it. He remembered his supposed trip to Hawaii, his intention to suggest that they take on Hydra as a team... He sighed.

“I think you're right,” he nodded.

'Time to grow up,' he thought. 'Put on your big boy britches and face the music.'

She looked almost relieved.

“I think so,” she nodded. “And we can schedule a press conference when you're ready. I'll schedule the appointment with Myla and I'll have JARVIS let you know. You can also have him set up a meeting with the other Avengers if you like and he can help you schedule an itinerary.”

He nodded. This was actually starting to help him feel... more in control. For the first time in weeks, Steve felt like his feet were on the ground.

“Thank you, Pepper.”

“You're welcome, Steve,” her eyes seemed fond and it almost made him blush. “Take care of yourself, okay? And say hi to Sam for me. We need to give him some kind of official welcome to the Avengers.”

“We sure do,” Steve smiled a little. That would be something to look forward to. “Oh, have you heard from Lt Colonel Rhodes?”

Pepper smiled.

“Really you can just call him Rhodey,” she smiled as Steve's face flushed a little. “And he's probably spoken to Tony about Avenger's business. Though, I think Rhodey just likes being an auxiliary member.”

“Understood,” Steve nodded. “Thank you once again, Pepper. Please let me know if there's anything I can do for you.”

“I'll let you know,” she smiled. “Let JARVIS know about the conference!”

“I will. Thank you!” he gave her a wave even though she was on a screen in front of him.

The communication screen closed and Steve took a moment to wonder at how ridiculously high tech his life was. He'd never imagined he'd live to see technology like this. 

Once upon a time, Bucky would have dreamed of living like this - in a modern tower right in the middle of New York with all sorts of amenities and an AI butler to take care of everything. Steve had never really been much for science fiction. He'd like it well enough - read the comic books and the pulp stories like Bucky did. All the kids from his generation did, he thought. But they were just that - stories. 

He'd never imagined technology would cause him so much trouble. 

With a sigh, he headed up to the training room the Avengers used. Sam wanted to get into fighting shape and insisted that Steve spar with him. 

"Now I know you got to hold back, but don't be gentle on me!" Sam had insisted over breakfast with a mock narrowed gaze. Steve had just smirked. 

"I promise I won't go gentle on you," he'd said. 

He was glad Sam was in a mood for sparring. Steve felt it was time he got back into fighting shape himself and even if he did have to pull his punches for Sam, it would at least prove to be a distraction from his worries and get his body back in combat mode.

He was going to get his team back together and soon they would all be active again. Maybe they would even join him following Hydra's trail and Steve knew that Hydra wouldn't stand a chance against all of them together. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, THANK YOU for all of your comments and support. I'm not good at thanking people for comments but they do make me smile! I love to see that I have new messages in my inbox :)


	7. United

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam tries to help Steve take care of himself. Steve reminisces on what he used to have with Bucky. The Avengers come together for a meeting and discuss what to do about Hydra.

The meeting with the Avengers was scheduled for that evening since no one's schedule seemed in conflict according to JARVIS. Steve tried to mentally prepare himself. Somehow it felt easy to step into the role of the Captain. It was what he was most familiar with by now and it was the role everyone needed him to play.

He just wished it didn't feel so fake. He wished he felt more... up to it.

Going to the gym and working out helped, punching the reinforced super-strength proof bags Tony had made for him. He really needed to do something nice for Tony and Pepper sometime.

Sam walked in as he was unwrapping his hands and winced.

“Can you hit a little harder next time? I think one of your knuckles didn't feel it.”

“Very funny,” Steve smiled. He felt much better with adrenaline rushing through his system. It had also helped, fantasizing about punching Brock Rumlow in the face... and anywhere else he could hit.

Imagining punching Jack had somehow been harder. He kept hearing the man's mocking words...

Steve shook himself and looked at Sam.

“You all right?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, glad to have the other man's presence. It made him feel grounded. He didn't have to act like a captain around Sam.

“My mom wanted to know if we'd like to come by for dinner Saturday,” Sam smiled a little. “She asked last night but uh, she just reminded me.” He winked.

Steve smiled but it was part grimace.

“Sure,” he said. He couldn't say no after all. “There's a meeting tonight.”

“I heard. JARVIS sent me a text.”

There was an awkward silence while Steve nodded and turned to look at his duffle bag on the bench.

“I'm thinking we should start training again in about a month. That should leave enough time for Hawaii, right?” He looked at Sam. “I don't know how long you wanted to... stay.”

“Long enough to recuperate from rescuing bunny rabbits,” Sam joked. Steve smiled a little.

“Sure,” he nodded and began unwrapping his other hand. "You uh. You still wanna spar?"

"Sure. Long as you remember I'm not a punching bag," he said, nodding to the bag. Steve let out a chuckle as he continued to unwrap his hands.

Then he noticed that they were shaking and frowned. When he turned suddenly to face Sam and nearly swayed, the other man stepped closer, hands out, to right him.

“Whoa, whoa... you okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve forced a smile. His body was shaking. “Just thirsty.”

“You didn't eat much at breakfast,” Sam noted.

“Oh, right. We did have breakfast, didn't we?” Steve shrugged. Sam groaned.

“Man... let's get you something to eat.”

“Sam,” he blushed and let out a laugh.

“You need to eat,” the other man prodded. “At least a snack. I know your routine by now. Post gym snack – that's some serious calories, right?”

Steve nodded, rolling his eyes. “Let me uh, clean up first.”

“Okay,” Sam chuckled, patting his arm. The blonde smiled again, blue eyes shining, and Sam bit his lip. He watched as his friend headed toward the showers and sat down on the bench Steve's duffel bag had been resting on.

“I'll wait here.”

“Okay!” Steve called. Sam sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his hand.

He'd had the worst temptation last night to watch the video again and it made him feel sick. It made him feel like a teenage boy in church again – like he needed to ask God to forgive him.

Sam wasn't really a religious – or spiritual – guy. His father was a preacher and his mom was still active in the church, but he didn't really put much stock by prayer.

It hadn't saved Riley.

Sometimes though... sometimes he sent a little something heavenward, hoping somebody was listening.

He tried to collect himself. He hadn't gotten any more texts from Rumlow – thank God – but he wasn't counting on the peace lasting. Stark was evidently working on getting them new phones – some time that evening, he'd had JARVIS tell Sam this morning.

He resisted the urge to check his phone, shaking his head. He'd already checked the news frenzy this morning and to his surprise, there weren't any more calls for 'Captain Rogers' to be arrested. Probably because nobody took that seriously. There were some articles wondering about the silence from Steve though. Steve would have to face the music at some point.

Sam just hoped he didn't break when he did. He'd never thought he'd have to worry about a press conference breaking Steve Rogers. Steve had always seemed so grounded, so solid.

Now, to see him like this, hurting and vulnerable... it was getting to Sam. 

 

* * *

 

 

Steve emerged from the shower looking a little fresher. He was wearing what Natasha jokingly called his 'old man disguise' – khakis and some godawful plaid shirt. Sam really needed to help the guy out.

He even had sneakers on. With _khakis_. God, when had Sam last seen somebody dressed like that who wasn't over fifty?  His humor faded though when he considered Steve had been wearing an open necked shirt just the day before, and shorts.

He stood and the two men nodded to each other.

“Let's get some brunch,” Sam said. “Second breakfast.”

Steve smiled. The blonde had seen the _Lord of the Rings_ movies, though he insisted the books were better. Sam had teased him about being a hipster once and ended up having to explain what a hipster was. Steve had laughed when he'd mentioned plaid shirts and 'vintage' clothes.

“I guess that sounds like me,” he'd admitted.

They headed to their own suite where Sam prepared a salad and homemade burgers. He was going to have to watch his waistline or he was going to need more powerful wings.

Steve ate slowly but he ate everything on his plate. Sam made small talk about Sarah's work and Jody's misadventures.

“I can't _believe_ he's been skipping out on school,” Steve said around a mouth full of burger. “Sorry,” he made a face.

“It's fine,” Sam chuckled. “He's just testing the waters, I think. That's what I told Sarah – tryin' to see how far he can push it.”

“Mm,” Steve nodded as he swallowed, then picked up his glass. “He's a smart kid.”

“Too smart to be playing hooky at twelve. I'm worried he's gotten in with a bad crowd.”

“Sure is easy to do around this town,” Steve mused. Then there was that awkward silence again. Steve's eyes were on his plate, which was hardly unusual for the man considering how much he ate. But Sam found himself wondering when was the last time Steve had kept eye contact with him.

Now that he thought about it, Steve had never really been big on eye contact. He was... weirdly shy outside of combat. 

The more Sam thought about it, the more he realized Steve Rogers and Captain America had very little in common. He'd noticed it before – that Steve outside of the suit was a different person – and he knew that 'Captain America' wasn't all there was to the guy. But... 

“Can I ask you something?” he said softly. He really wondered if he should be asking this...

Steve looked up, brows rising. His cheek was puffed out with cheeseburger again and he nodded. Sam watched the blush flow up his neck. He'd tried not to think about how Steve had looked earlier, all sweaty and flushed.

“Did you and Bucky... were you in a relationship?”

Steve froze. His eyes looked wide, caught. He looked down at the table and his face blushed even brighter.

“I'm sorry,” Sam said. “You don't have to-”

“Yeah,” he said, surprising Sam. “We were,” he looked up at his friend.

"Together?" Sam offered.

Steve nodded. “It was... different back then. You couldn't... We didn't think about it like that. I mean, we knew, obviously what we had but... we had to keep it a secret.”

Sam's lips curved at one corner and he nods again. “Yeah.”

“I um... Buck used to date girls all the time back in Brooklyn,” he chuckled. “We'd go on these double dates. I hated it but... it was necessary.” He looked at Sam. “And Buck liked girls too, so...”

“That didn't... bother you?”

Steve frowned. “Oh no. No,” he shook his head. “I mean... Buck... he got around I guess,” he smiled a little and chuckled again. Sam smiled. “But... that was before we got... serious, I guess.”

Sam nodded again. 

“What about during the war?”

“We um... we sort of... we just had to keep it really quiet. We had to be really careful,” Steve nodded, looking at his plate again. Then he looked up at Sam. “But we... I was crazy about him.”

Steve put his burger down and one his hands hovered over his mouth.

“I'm sorry.”

“No,” Sam shook his head. “Don't be sorry.”

Steve forced a weak smile. Sam didn't ask him about Bucky anymore.

 

* * *

 

Bucky's eyes were hot as they wandered up Steve's skinny chest. The blonde felt his usual blush creeping up his neck.

Steve had a tendency to be in charge during sex. It sort of started with them kissing roughly. They'd always horsed around but it wasn't until recently that they'd... well, that they'd started doing this.

Now Bucky just liked to give Steve orders and Steve, for some reason, liked following them.

Oh never outside of their bedroom. Steve would sock Bucky in the jaw if he thought the other man was trying to be the boss of him out in everyday life.

But in their bedroom, sometimes Steve liked to let Bucky take control. There was just something exciting about it. If he was being honest about it, Steve liked it when Bucky held the reigns.

“C'mere,” Bucky gestured. He was sitting on the edge of Steve's bed, knees parted. Steve had just taken off his shirt slowly at Bucky's order, pulling it over his head and giving Bucky a good look at his chest.

There was something about Steve's chest that Bucky really liked. 

He stepped forward until he was between the other man's knees. Bucky grinned slowly, biting his lip.

“Fuck, Stevie...” he took Steve's hips in hand, nearly causing the other man to tense, and hauled him closer, until his face was buried between Steve's ribs. The blonde looked down at him with a smirk.

“What?” he wished his voice wasn't so breathy and shaky like the dames in the movies. Bucky grinned up at him and gently bit the skin over his left rib. Steve tried to focus on breathing. He was hard as a rock and he knew his erection had to be pressing against Bucky's belly. 

Sure enough, one of Bucky's hands slid down from caressing his back to grasp Steve's dick through his pants and the blonde almost pulled away. He didn't need to get a stain on these pants.

“Hey hey,” Bucky murmured and his breath was hot against Steve's chest. The blonde had to keep his eyes from falling shut.

“Just fuck me already,” he said, his voice wobbling. Bucky chuckled and Steve wanted to hit him.

He licked up the center of Steve's chest and the blonde bit back a groan. His hands slid into Bucky's hair.

“Hands at your sides,” Bucky's eyes gazed up into his, hot and bright, and Steve moved his hands away, scowling. “Don't you give me that look. I oughta tan your ass.”

Bucky had tanned Steve's ass before, but his asthma almost couldn't take it. They had to be careful and Steve hated it. He just wanted Bucky to be able to take him and do whatever he wanted to him. The thought gave him a tiny shiver.

“You gonna be good for me, Steve Rogers?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve said, his mouth feeling dry. He licked his lips and Bucky's eyes fell to staring at them.

Then Bucky was pushing him back and tugging his belt open with fumbling hands.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “I need your mouth on my dick.”

Steve was almost salivating at the thought and he got down on his knees to tug at Bucky's belt but the other man brushed his hands away. He made a negative noise in his throat and Steve scowled.

“Hands behind your back.”

Oh.

Steve obeyed slowly, shaking a little. He'd have to rely on Bucky to know when he needed to breathe. But he could trust Bucky. Steve would trust Bucky with anything, always.

The brun grinned, his fly open, but his dick still in his underwear. He took Steve's head by the hair, gripping a little tight, just like he knew Steve liked it and the blonde fought a whimper as his head was pulled close to Bucky's groin.

He rubbed Steve's face lightly over his dick, through his underwear. Steve could smell him and he wanted to groan as he inhaled the musky scent. Bucky rolled his hips slightly.

“Fuck...” Bucky had a hell of a mouth on him when he was horny. “You're gonna give me a suck job aren't ya?”

“Yeah,” Steve murmured.

“What?”

“Yes, sir.”

Bucky's other hand rubbed the back of Steve's neck.

“Mm, and you're gonna swallow it all, right?”

Steve's face heated. “Y-yeah. I mean yes, sir.”

Bucky giggled and Steve rolled his eyes but he was smiling a little too. Playful, he nipped at Bucky's dick and the man groaned.

“That's it. You're askin for it now,” Bucky whipped his cock out, pulling Steve's head back. Then he was pressing the head up against Steve's lips.

Steve looked up at him, knowing what his eyes did to Bucky. The brunette's blue eyes opened wider and his jaw dropped.

“Holy fuck, Stevie...” he growled. He rubbed the head of his dick over Steve's lips and the blonde let his tongue slide out against the underside of it. Bucky's eyes fell closed. He was shivering and Steve knew it had to be killing him to wait.

Steve began to lick at the head slowly and the older boy groaned. Bucky was nineteen and Steve was seventeen.

With a smirk, Steve began to suck on the head. Bucky made something between a groan and gibberish and Steve laughed, moving back to cough. Bucky froze, frowning, and Steve shook his head.

“I'm fine,” he chuckled, coughing softly. He looked up at Bucky and found him frowning still, his eyes full of concern. While it warmed his chest, it also irritated Steve.

“I'm fine,” he scowled. Bucky huffed. Then he was stroking his fingers through Steve's hair.

“I'll decide that.”

Steve felt his face heat again and he fought a smile. Then he licked a stripe up Bucky's dick and the brunette growled.

“You must really want me to tear you open.”

Steve's eyes did close at that. He loved it when Bucky talked rough. His eyes opened and he smiled up at the other man.

“Maybe I do,” he murmured against the head of Bucky's dick and his friend sucked in air between his teeth.

“You're gonna get what you need, trust me,” Bucky murmured and his fingers gripped Steve's hair tightly again as he fed his cock into Steve's mouth. 

 

* * *

 

 

Steve shuddered as he emptied himself, thinking about Bucky's fingers spreading him wide as he lie on the skinny bed in their old apartment. He was more than embarrassed about doing this in the middle of the afternoon, but he'd excused himself to the bathroom when Sam was on the phone with his sister.

He'd gotten riled up, thinking about the sex he and Bucky used to have before the war, back when they'd had hours on one of Bucky's days off to explore each other's bodies.

He could still picture Bucky holding him open and then doing the most obscene thing Steve had ever experienced at the time – licking into his ass.

He couldn't resist mixing the current Bucky in with it – a metal arm gripping the back of his neck as the other man forced his cock into his throat. He could almost taste Bucky on his tongue.

He looked at his cum in the sink and sighed, feeling the warmth and looseness flooding his body.

Now after eating all of that burger meat and having the first orgasm he'd had in... well in longer than he wanted to think about, Steve needed to sit down. He quickly cleaned up, wiping up whatever cum had touched the counter and rinsing the rest down the drain.

Shame slowly seeped back in as he tucked himself away and washed his hands. He forced himself to look in the mirror and swallowed, then looked back down.

He didn't deserve to think of Bucky and... and what they'd had. He certainly shouldn't be thinking of Bucky now, confused and lost as he was...

He sighed and dried his hands off with a towel, then headed out to get some more coffee. It would barely make a dent considering the serum, but the smell of it would help rouse him some.

 

The meeting was set for 6:30. They had dinner together, seated in the common room, and then Natasha was tapping her fork lightly against her glass to gather everyone's attention. Tony and Bruce's conversation about complicated science Steve couldn't pretend to understand fell quiet and Clint stopped relating some hilarious story about What Happened in Budapest to Sam.

“Friends, Romans, Countrymen!” Tony sang.

“Let's let Steve do the talking,” Bruce suggested, his eyes full of good humor. Tony gave him a look, then looked to Steve who was actually smiling. Everyone was in pretty good spirits.

“I was telling Sam I think we should start training together again soon. Maybe in a month?”

“Oh that's right, you two are jetting off to Hawaii?” Tony smirked and waggled his eyebrows. Natasha gave him a look.

“Is that right?” Bruce looked surprised.

Steve nodded, his ears heating a little. “That is. I mean, we are going to Hawaii." 

“It's Natasha's fault,” Sam pointed and she smirked and raised an eyebrow.

“It was my _idea_ ,” she looked at the others. “I think Sam needs a break.”

“Thank you,” he said and they all chuckled. Steve smiled a little.

“I think that should leave more than enough time for our trip.”

“How long are you going to stay?” Bruce asked.

Steve looked to Sam who shrugged.

“Two weeks?” he guessed.

“Uh, no,” Sam said and they laughed again. “We're gonna stay _three weeks_. You know what, let's not commit to anything.”

When the laughter died down, Steve continued.

“I was thinking... that maybe as a team we could tackle Hydra.”

There was silence. 

“They do need their asses kicked,” Clint said and everyone else nodded.

“It's too bad we don't have Thor,” Bruce noted. “But I agree. If there's anyone who could use the Hulk treatment, I think it's Hydra.”

Steve smirked. “I think you're right. But I didn't want to... there's no denying that this is personal for me.”

“Uh, hello?” Tony waggled his fingers. “Yours truly was in their Project Insight Burn Book. So was everyone else at this table. I think we can say it's personal for all of us.”

“Exactly,” Natasha said. “For once, I agree with you.”

“Don't make it a habit,” Steve mock whispered and there were more chuckles. 

“I don't plan on it,” she smirked. 

“Et tu, Brute,” Tony gave Steve a look and he chuckled. 

“So we're in agreement? In one month, we start training.”

“Sounds good. I have something I need to take care of. I should be able to wrap it up in that time.”

“She's going on a secret mission,” Tony stage whispered to Bruce who snorted.

“Underline secret,” she gave Tony a look. He gasped.

“As if I would be anything less than discreet!” 

“What intel has JARVIS found on Hydra?” Natasha asked. Tony grew serious at once.

“We've been sifting through lots of coded data,” Bruce said. Steve was surprised – he hadn't realized Bruce was working on it and he felt ashamed for a moment for not knowing sooner. “But it looks like we've located several locations.”

He and Tony had JARVIS pull up a map on the tv on the wall nearby and Steve turned to look. He rubbed his chin as they talked about the different locations.

“One of those was checked by yours truly a few months ago,” Natasha said. “It's done.”

“Ding,” Tony said, gesturing. “JARVIS, if you would.”

“Yes, sir.” The dot marking the location turned green instead of red.

“So that leaves two in...” Steve eyed the map.

“Germany,” Sam said. “There's a surprise.”

“It's old,” Natasha rolled her eyes. “I haven't been there yet-”

“Ah hah! So you _aren't_ perfect,” Tony noted. Bruce rolled his eyes and Steve smiled. Natasha sighed exaggeratingly slowly and the others chuckled. Clint snorted and shook his head.

“The other location is in Greece,” Steve mused, eyeing the map again. “What's in Greece, JARVIS?”

“According to Dr Banner's notes, it appears to be a laboratory.”

Steve looked to Bruce who was making a face at the map. He met eyes with Steve and shrugged a shoulder.

“I haven't been able to decode the project notes yet, but it looks promising. Or... not promising, considering it's Hydra we're dealing with.”

“Ew,” Clint said, making a face. Everyone else looked to be in agreement.

“Which one do we target first?” Steve said. Then he frowned and rubbed his face with a hand. “We should get to it right away... Maybe we could-”

“No, you're going to Hawaii,” Natasha said. “We can check it out.”

“I don't...” Steve sighed, looking at her. “I'd rather we didn't split up.”

“We're not splitting up,” Tony said. “We're just going ahead without you.”

There was a stretching silence. Sam was grimacing. Clint looked like he had indigestion. Bruce was giving Steve a sympathetic look.

Steve looked at their faces.

“Oh.” he said. Then he nodded. “Okay. I think I understand.”

“It's not what you're thinking.”

“I think it is,” Steve said, looking to her. “And... I'm not angry,” he held up his hands. “I understand... under the circumstances. You can't all wait on me and Sam-”

“I haven't been cleared just yet for Avengers duty,” Sam said.

“I now pronounce you cleared,” Tony pretended to wave a magic wand in his direction.

“It's more a military end of things. I am still working at the VA, even if I am on leave.”

Steve gave him an apologetic look and Sam shook his head, holding up a hand.

“I _asked_ to be on leave. I want to work with you guys,” he looked at the others. “But I've got to get some things straight and this gives me enough time to do so.”

He gave Steve a pointed look and the captain finally nodded.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay.” He looked up at the others. “So... what base are we targeting first?” 

Natasha felt like it would be a glaring error to ignore the lab and Bruce and Tony agreed. Clint went along with Natasha. Steve was still not happy about the idea that only four of the Avengers were going – minus himself – but he didn't show it. As far as he was concerned, he had no right to be upset.

Still... he'd thought it would be him and his team again.

When they finished talking about the bases and Natasha offered to help Bruce work on decoding the intel – which caused Tony to waggle his eyebrows suggestively and promptly receive a kick, this time from Bruce – Steve felt the silence hanging in the air.

“So,” Tony said before he could speak. “Press conference in three days.”

“Right,” Steve nodded, his eyes on the table. He chided himself for being a coward and looked up at the others. Bruce had a sympathetic look again and Clint was decidedly not looking at him. Steve wasn't sure which was worse.

“Pepper will help you work out what to say,” Natasha said and Steve gave her a grateful glance and nodded.

“Right.”

“What exactly are you going to say?” Tony was twirling his glass around.

“Tony,” Bruce gave him a look.

“About the Triskelion, I mean!”

“I'll explain what happened,” Steve said. “I think it's... obvious what happened. Hydra infiltrated SHIELD, it was compromised, Project Insight was about to be launched. What choice did we have?” He looked to Natasha.

She made a face.

“We had a choice. But we made the only one that made sense.”

Steve nodded. “And that's what we'll stick with.” He looked to the others. Clint nodded but he still wasn't looking at Steve. Bruce was nodding too. Sam was silent, staring down at the table in thought.

“You were kinda quiet for a while though...” Tony pointed out.

“I felt like it wasn't really necessary for me to say anything. I mean... what could I have said? I felt like the spilled files made it obvious.”

“Leaked,” Natasha prods and he smiles a little and nods.

“Leaked files. Right.”

“So... what about the other thing?” Tony said and dodged another kick – this time from both Bruce and Natasha. “Ha-ha!”

Natasha was glaring at him.

“What? It's a valid question!”

“It is,” Steve nodded. He felt like everyone was leaning in closer. Clint was looking up at him now.

He sighed as he looked at the table.

“I made a mistake. I... put my trust in people I shouldn't have. I've hurt people,” he continued when Natasha opened her mouth to speak. “Kids... look up to me. People look up to me.” He looked at the others. Tony was wincing.

'Or did,' he thought.

“I'll... apologize for the hurt I've caused. And... I want to say for the record that I'm sorry,” he looked at the others. “For the... the shame and embarrassment I've caused all of you.”

“Steve,” Bruce was shaking his head. Clint blew out a breath.

“No. I did. I hurt you. I hurt the Avengers. I was irresponsible,” his throat felt tight and he swallowed. “I'm your team leader and... that falls on me.”

He looked up at them again. “I can promise you I'll do whatever it takes to set this right.”

There was silence again. Steve looked from face to face. Tony was wincing again. Bruce was frowning.

Clint finally spoke.

“I don't think this can be made right.”

“Clint,” Natasha's voice was full of reproach and she glared right at him.

“It's true, Natasha,” he said softly. He looked at Steve and his eyes were apologetic. “I'm sorry man, but... it's out there now. You can apologize, sure, but... for what? For being gay?”

The word seemed to slap him in the face and he swallowed again, looking down at the table.

He hadn't had a problem with... with admitting to himself what he and Bucky had. Oh, sure it was hard at first, but that was years before. By the time he was... by the time he got involved with Jack and Brock, he'd accepted it.

But hearing the label out loud, hearing it slapped on so easily, and by a teammate...

That was what it was all about, wasn't it? It wasn't even just that Steve had shown up naked and doing obscene things, it was that he'd done obscene things with _men_.

“I'm going to apologize for... for the hurt I've caused. For...” He wasn't even sure suddenly. “For what I... for allowing myself to...”

“To what? To be human?” Natasha asked.

Steve frowned. “I'm sorry... am I not supposed to apologize?”

“I didn't,” Tony said. “And I'm doing great. I mean, okay,” he said after a glare from the others. “I apologized to my board and my stockholders and people working at Stark Industries, but hey.” He shrugged, looking to Steve. “Shit happens, right?”

Steve looked at him for a moment. Then he looked at the table.

“I don't understand,” he admitted. “I... I mean I know I shouldn't apologize for being gay. That's not... I mean...”

“The only thing you could apologize for is the pictures,” Tony shrugged. “I mean apologize to the kids or the parents if you want but... Steve?” He looked at the inventor. “It's not really your fault.”

“I don't know,” Clint said. “I mean... he did-”

“Clint,” Natasha's teeth were clenched and her voice made the hair on the back of Steve's neck stand up. The other man gave her a look, then looked at Steve.

“You want me to level with you? I think you should have been way more careful about this. You're an icon, for fuck's sake.”

Steve stared at him.

“You need to shut up,” Sam was stiff next to him. Clint gave him a look. Then he looked at the others.

“Really? Captain America shows up naked, having kinky sex and everyone is supposed to just brush it off? What planet do you guys live on?”

“I can't believe you.” Natasha said.

“There are _kids_ who look up to him,” Clint said.

“Fuck 'em,” Tony shrugged. “Their parents shouldn't let them on the internet!” He held up his hands when Bruce gave him an exasperated look.

Clint huffed and shook his head. “Yeah, it's easy for you. You don't have kids.”

“Neither do you!”

Clint shook his head. “That's besides the point. He... he _represents_ us.”

“You're right,” Steve said at last. He almost felt relieved finally hearing someone say what was on his mind. Everyone else was just too kind to speak the truth. Clint was right to condemn him. 

“No, he's not,” Sam said as Natasha also began to speak.

“Get the fuck out.”

Steve stiffened, looking at her in shock. Then he realized she was looking at Clint. He looked at the archer to see him giving her a grim look. Then he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and sighed, stood from the table, and began to walk toward the elevator. Natasha's eyes followed him.

Bruce was nodding slowly. Tony began to slow clap and Bruce glared at him so he stopped.

Clint sighed and stopped near the elevator. He turned to say something, then looked at Natasha and seemed to think better of it.

He stepped into the elevator and headed, Steve presumed, to his own suite.

He looked at the table for a while.

“He's wrong,” Natasha said. Everyone else was silent.

“I don't think we'll address that at the press conference anyway,” Tony said.

“What?” Sam looked up. “Really?”

“It's more of an interview type of thing. Better, more intimate setting for private questions.” Tony looked to Steve. “That's if you _want_ to do it. You don't have to talk about this. Just... might be better to nip it in the bud.”

Steve sighed.

“I think we're well past nipping it in the bud, to be honest.”

Tony breathed in and winced - and Steve got the feeling he was fighting the urge to make some obscene joke - then shrugged. “It's your choice.”

Steve nodded.

“Thank you,” he looked at them. “Thank you all.”

Bruce shook his head and muttered something about it being no problem. Tony shrugged. Natasha sighed and stood up.

“Steve. I want you to come with me to my evil lair.” 

He blinked and they all looked up at her.

“My suite,” she held out a hand. Steve stood and took it, giving her a bemused expression. Sam chuckled.

“Go easy on him,” he joked.

“Oh shut up,” she said good naturedly. “Come on, Captain Dork.” She looked at the others. “Disperse,” she waved a hand.

“Yes ma'am,” Tony saluted. Bruce gave Steve a nod.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he looked to them. “See you later,” he told Sam.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw yeah, Natasha's gonna tell Steve how it is. I'm always having Nat save people in fanfictions, or if not saving them, supporting them. Remind me to write a fic in which Nat gets to lean on somebody else for once. I need to write a Natasha fic anyway.


	8. Abuse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve needs someone to lay out the truth for him. Natasha thinks she's the best candidate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now it's time for Real Talk or Girl Code with Natasha, hahaaa! Aw yeah.
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: Talking about trauma, though it is to a sympathetic person, Steve being triggered, and more self blaming on Steve's part.

“So if Pepper thinks I should do an interview about the photos...” Steve told Natasha. Once they were in her sitting room, Natasha had him sit on the plush sofa and took an armchair for herself.

“Okay...”

“I'm supposed to meet with her and the PR representative tomorrow to hash this all out.”

Natasha was silent for a few moments, gazing off.

“I need you to tell me everything that happened.”

He parted his lips, frowning.

“Everything that you can remember. Any details you can remember, any kind of timeline or dates...”

“Why?”

She didn't roll her eyes but she did raise an eyebrow with a deadpan expression.

“If I'm going to help you with this, I need to know everything. In fact, the PR Rep will probably want to know – if not all the details – then all the most important ones.”

“Okay...” Steve shifted.

“Their job is to help you figure out what exactly you're telling the public.”

“Right. I understand that... but... Can't I just tell the truth?”

Natasha raised her eyebrows. “That depends.”

Steve frowned. “On what?” he raised an eyebrow.

“I need to know the whole story before I can help you figure that out.”

He lifted a shoulder in a shrug.

“Okay...” he looked up at her. “It's not that I don't... trust you Natasha. I just...”

“I know. It's not something you want to talk about. I get that.”

He nodded. “I trust your judgment.”

Her lips stretched at one corner, quirking up slightly.

“You have a lot more sense than I do,” he smiled slightly in turn and she closed her eyes and smirked.

“Maybe I just hide my craziness better.”

He smiled again.

“All right.” He decided to start at the beginning. “I met Brock for drinks. We just talked and... I told him I wanted,” he looked up at her and swallowed.

“Let's try this,” she said, standing.

“Where are we going?”

“Nowhere.”

She turned the armchair she was in to face the carved fireplace – Steve was almost envious of the fixture – causing the blond to frown.

“This way I'm not staring at you.” She said. “Will that make it easier?”

He nodded.

“Do you want tea or coffee?” She asked. Then she decided before he could speak. “Tea. Tea and cookies. This is a tea and cookies conversation.”

“You don't have to-”

“Shut up, Rogers. I have these amazing chocolate cookies. You're going to eat them.”

“Okay.”

When they were settled again and Steve had taken a sip of black tea, Natasha seated with her own cup of tea and facing away from him, she prompted him.

“Ready?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, feeling so grateful to her. He looked into the fireplace – real, apparently, and currently sporting a little fire – and let himself relax. “I um...” he stared at the flames. The words did seem to come easier now.

“I went to drinks with Brock- with Rumlow. I told him I wanted... I don't know how I ended up saying it,” he scoffed. “But I told him I wanted someone to fuck me.”

The silence buzzed in his ears and he closed his eyes. His face heated.

“What did he say?” she prompted, taking a sip of her tea.

“Well, he was pretty happy about that. I think I really shocked him,” Steve laughed. “At first he just stared at me. Then he texted Rollins – Jack. And... we met him outside. He told me to tell Rollins what I'd said to him. So I did. I said... nobody would fuck me. That it'd been...” he swallowed. “Seventy years since anybody touched me. Everyone treated me like a statue.”

“I'm sorry.”

Her voice was soft but it didn't sound as if she was pitying him. He relaxed.

“Well... they took me over to Brock's place and we fucked. They... they fucked me.”

“Both of them?”

“Yes.”

“And you were sober while this was happening?”

“Yes, of course,” he huffed. Then he felt bad for his attitude. Natasha was just making sure because she cared about him. “Sorry.”

“It's okay,” she breathed in and exhaled slowly through her nose. “Did you do anything involving bondage, that night?”

“No. Well, sort of.” His face heated. “They put a plug in me and um,” he waited for her to laugh. She didn't, she just stayed quiet. “They held me down – both of them – while they slept. And um... I really wanted them to fuck me again but they didn't until morning.”

She was quiet and for some reason, he felt he needed to say something.

“I liked it. I was exhausted the next day, but I liked it.”

“Was it you who brought up limits or them?”

“It was... It was Jack, I think.” Steve frowned. “But I told them I was fine. I have the serum, after all.”

Natasha was quiet. He waited, a reply already on his lips in case she argued that it wasn't enough, that it wouldn't help him recover emotionally the way Sam said. But she was quiet.

“Did he ever mention safewords?”

Steve frowned. “What?”

“Safe words,” she sighed quietly. “They're...” she paused and rubbed at the bridge of her nose. “In a BDSM relationship – you know what BDSM is, right?”

“Of course. Oh, you mean like a word you use when you want to stop things.” He huffed. “No, no. Natasha, I don't need that-”

“Steve,” she said, not looking at him. “Listen to me. Any of the times I've done any kind of BDSM scene with anyone – and yes, I dominate partners-” Steve's face heated at the thought. “I use a safeword. I make my partner pick a safeword. Always. It doesn't matter if you don't think you'll need it. You always, always pick a safeword.”

“What's the point if you're not going to use it?”

She turned to look at him then. He blinked and his face warmed again. He looked down, then back up at her.

“I know that you think you don't need one. And maybe, in a healthy BDSM relationship, you wouldn't have. But that wasn't healthy, Steve. It wasn't.”

“Well I realize that,” he mumbled.

“Were they both in control?”

Steve tilted his head to the side, then nodded. “Most of the time. But Jack was really the one in control.”

“And he never had you pick a safeword.”

“No. I told him I didn't have limits.”

She closed her eyes. Then she opened them again and looked at him.

“You always. Always have limits.”

He shook his head. “I have a seru-”

“Stop.” She held up a hand and he fell silent, but he frowned. “This isn't about the serum and it's not about your pride. It's not about your physical body and what it can or can't handle. This is about you. This is about your emotions. Even if I submit to someone – which I rarely do – I pick a safeword. It doesn't matter if I can get out of the binds on my own just fine. It doesn't matter if I've done whatever ti is a thousand times. If a Dom gives a shit about you they will not proceed until you pick a safeword. I'm guessing this wasn't your first rodeo?”

Steve's face heated and he nodded again.

She tilted her head. “Did you have rules with your first dominant partner?”

“I was the dominant partner,” he said softly. “And... yes, we had rules.”

“What kind of rules?”

He was about to argue that his submissive partner had been Bucky – a normal human at the time with no serum – but he sighed. He was so tired of arguing, so tired of trying to defend himself. What was he even defending himself against? This was Natasha.

He looked up at her and saw patience and empathy in her gaze.

“Need me to turn around again?”

“It might help,” he confessed. She nodded and turned to sip her tea again. Then he continued.

“If he was bleeding... Sometimes he wanted me to slap him, so I would. But if he started bleeding, I'd stop. He hated me stopping,” Steve chuckled. “But I didn't like him bleeding. Oh, if he started getting too out of it. You know how... people do.”

“That's called sub space”

“Right. I read about it.”

“So you read about BDSM online?”

“I did. And of course, I'd practiced some of it in real life. But we didn't know about safe words or that kind of thing back then. He'd just tell me to stop – my partner before, I mean.”

“But you didn't practice Safe, Sane, and Consensual with Rumlow and Rollins?”

“What?”

“Safe, Sane, and Consensual? There's also RACK which is Risk Aware Consensual Kink. Safe,  
Sane, and Consensual means that you've discussed everything about the scene beforehand – what will happen, how it will happen, what is absolutely out of the question in terms of limits – and everyone has limits, Steve. It has nothing to do with how strong you are. In a healthy relationship-”

“You have boundaries,” he finished. When she was quiet for a moment, Steve almost smiled. He could picture her raising an eyebrow. “Sam told me that.”

She nodded.

“Sam is a good man.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. Steve knew that. He knew that she knew he knew that. His skin felt warm and his heart tingled but he wasn't sure why. Was she suggesting..?

“Did you ever discuss limits in detail with Rollins?”

“No. Like I said, I didn't have any.”

“Did he insist that you give him limits?”

“No. But to be fair,” he didn't know why he was defending Rollins, honestly. “I told him I didn't have any so...”

“... Did you go over the details of the scene – what was going to happen, how it was going to happen, for how long – before the sex?”

“No.”

“Never?”

“That would have taken the fun out of it.”

She was silent for a while. Steve shifted, frowning.

“In my experience, it doesn't take any of the fun out of it for the submissive.”

He felt his ears growing pink.

“Well...” he didn't know how to say that he rather liked not knowing.

“I'm not talking about going over every single detail. But a general idea would be, for instance, if I wanted to do a scene with someone involving whips.”

Steve tried not to picture Natasha wielding a whip. A shiver went up his spine and he swallowed. Unfortunately the image switched to Sam holding a whip and he was very glad she didn't see his eyes nearly bulging out of his head at the thought.

Sam holding him down by the back of his neck and promising delicious punishment. Making Steve count each lash. Making him kiss the whip and beg for more.

Spread eagled, hanging from the ceiling, desperate for Jack to continue-

Oh God, he swallowed. Stop, stop thinking about that. He closed his eyes tightly and clenched his teeth.

“Steve?”

She was looking at him now.

“I'm fine,” he shook his head.

She was quiet. When he opened his eyes, she was sitting next to him on the sofa. He nearly jumped at how quietly she'd moved.

“I'm sorry,” she paused the hand reaching out to his shoulder. He relaxed and gave her a nod. Natasha gently rested her hand on his shoulder and rubbed it. “That reminded you of something.”

He started to shake his head but at her look he sighed. Then he nodded.

“That's called a trigger.”

“I know what a trigger is,” he mumbled, looking away. “But it wasn't that bad, Natasha,” he looked at her. “I'm sorry, I just-”

“You don't have to apologize.”

He licked his lips. “I didn't mean to get a tone with you.”

She let her hand slip away and nodded. Then she moved back to her armchair.

“If I was to have a scene involving a whip,” she said. “I would talk with my partner beforehand. If I was the dominant partner, I would want them to specify areas of the body where they would find lashes acceptable, what kind of whip they'd like me to use. I might not be willing to use certain whips or hit certain parts of their body because I might not be comfortable with that. Dominant partners can also have safewords – not just for their submissive, but for themselves.”

Steve frowned. “Why?”

“There's no shame in realizing that whipping someone else causes you to feel bad or have bad memories. Dominant partners can also experience what's called top drop afterward. Aftercare isn't just for subs. It also helps a Dom or Domme to take care of their sub afterward – check in and reassure themselves that this was what the sub wanted.”

“Right. I know about aftercare.”

“Did they give you aftercare?”

Steve nodded. He didn't mention that Jack had given it to him after beating him. He shuddered at the memory of Jack fucking him into the bed as he bled and sobbed.

Then he realized she couldn't see him nodding.

“Yes,” he added quickly, but she was already looking at him. He shook his head and slid his hands into his hair, elbows resting on his knees. “I mean, yes they gave me aftercare.”

She moved to sit next to him again.

“What happened?”

“Please, I don't...”

“You need to talk about this. If not with me, then with Sam. They're going to ask you for details tomorrow, Steve. Maybe not everything, but-”

“The important things, right,” he felt weak. She touched his shoulder and he allowed her to pull him back and press him back against the sofa. Then she was lifting his cup of tea and bidding him to drink. He did.

“I'm sorry.”

She gave him a look. “Don't apologize for that.”

He gave her a weak smile and took another sip, avoiding her gaze. When he lowered the cup, she spoke again.

“What did they do in terms of aftercare?”

He sighed. “Natasha-”

When he looked at her, she was waiting, eyebrow raised. He chuckled, but shrugged.

“They... Well they gave me a bath.” He tried not to picture the blood in the water. “And um, they dressed me. I was in Jack's sweater...”

It was so warm after the bath and he was snuggled between them. He remembered looking up at Jack in adoration. Telling him 'Thank you.'

The way Jack stared at him as if he was puzzled. As if Steve had said something cryptic.

What had he been thinking?

Steve felt his face heat. His eyes were hot too and he blinked, looking away.

“Then what?”

He licked his lips. “Then uh, we lay down on the bed and they fed me. Pizza.” He gave her a weak smile. “Beer.”

“What kind of scene did you do before this?”

He opened his mouth, then shut it. If he told her he didn't want to talk about it... He looked up at her and smiled, barely.

“Just... you know. Tied me up. Um... whipped me.” His face flushed. “Can you go sit in the chair again?”

“How many strikes did he give you?”

Steve frowned. Heat rose in his chest and he stared at her.

“What does it matter?”

“Did you count them? Did he?”

Steve shook his head. “I told you, I didn't have limits-”

“Were you bleeding?”

“Natasha-”

“What did he use to whip you with?”

Steve opened his mouth, then closed it again. “A belt.” He swallowed. “He used a belt.”

She was quiet and he almost hated her. He closed his eyes and his teeth clenched.

“And his fist,” he added. He felt so pathetic, he turned his face away.

He breathed hard and realized how tense he was. His back and chest were both stiff. Steve took a deep breath, his eyes closed, and slowly relaxed back into the sofa as he exhaled.

“Why did he whip you?”

“Because...” he blinked, trying to ignore how hot his eyes felt. He couldn't remember at first.

Then he did.

The children he couldn't save.

Natasha kneeling and telling him that they hadn't suffered.

Jack looking at him in disgust. Telling Steve he didn't want to have to deal with this again. Steve sobbing. Jack telling him he was worthless. Useless.

“I couldn't save them,” he said finally. “Those... the two kids.”

She was silent for a few moments, thinking. Then her eyes widened slightly.

“Oh God,” she said softly. “Steve.”

“I... I was still upset and... I think Jack didn't like it. He... he told me... It was my fault. But it was, Natasha-”

“No!” The strength of her tone caused him to look at her.

Steve just stared at her quietly.

“Steve... It was not. Your fault. People die. That happens during missions. You know that.”

He blinked and nodded after a moment.

“I know...”

But if he'd been a bit faster... If he'd just...

“Steve.”

He looked at her. She raised her eyebrows.

“I know, Natasha.” He said softly.

She sighed and stood. “Have a cookie.”

He picked a cookie up and began to nibble on it. She gave him a raised eyebrow and he fought a smile as he pushed the whole thing into his mouth and began to chew. It was really good.

“These are good cookies,” he said. She nodded. Then she moved back to her chair. They sat in silence for a while, Steve dreading the next question.

“What did Rumlow do? When Jack beat you?”

Steve was taking a sip of his tea. He froze and swallowed. Then he set the teacup down.

“He... He just watched, I think.”

She was silent for a moment. Steve heard her cup clink against its saucer.

“Did he tie you up?”

Steve shuddered. He nodded.

“Yes. He did. But I... I could have gotten out of it...”

She sighed.

“Steve, what Jack did? We call that abusive.”

Steve shook his head. No. He... he wasn't some woman. Okay, Natasha was strong and fast but... he wasn't a defenseless woman who... He wasn't Jack's wife or anything. He'd willingly let Jack fuck him...

He drew his knees closer together and swallowed. His hands gripped the edge of the sofa.

“I don't... think it was,” he said.

“It was abuse. He used something against you that you felt guilty about. When you expressed emotion, he turned that against you and used it as an excuse to hurt you.”

Steve blinked.

“You felt like you deserved it.”

His brows furrowed together and he looked at the back of her head in surprise. Then again... she did know him pretty well.

“Yeah.”

“So after that, what happened?”

“He... fucked me.”

Hard and fast. It hurt and it scared Steve but it felt right because he'd...

He swallowed. No.

No, it hadn't felt right. Why did he think it felt right? It hurt. It was terrifying and Steve had thought Jack was going to tear him open.

“And when that was over?”

“He... they took me to the bathroom and... I had a bath.”

“You were bleeding?”

“Yeah.”

“And after the bath?”

“They um... they got me dressed. Jack's sweater and... some pants.”

“They dressed you.”

He nodded. “Right.”

And then Jack collared him. And he'd felt... whole. Complete. Like he was finally home.

He blinked against the moisture in his eyes. He didn't want to cry, not here with Natasha.

He made a small noise, unable to help it, and then covered his lips with a hand. Natasha stood and set her cup and saucer down on the table. Then she moved to sit by him, slowly.

“Steve,” she said softly. He looked at her.

“I'm s-”

“Don't you dare apologize.” She looked at him and her eyes held warmth and understanding. She didn't pity him. She got it.

It hurt to think of her being... used that way. He let her pull him into a hug or maybe he pulled her into one.

He closed his eyes and bit back another apology, his hand on her back. Her own hands rubbed his back and she pressed a kiss to his temple. He trembled and let some of the tears fall.

“I was so... I shouldn't have trusted them.”

“You didn't know.” She said. “For the record, I kind of want to hunt them down and cut off their balls.”

He snorted. Then he started to chuckle.

“I can see that.”

“They'd deserve it.”

He smiled a little through the tears and sniffed.

“Maybe so.”

“Definitely so.”

“Right.”

When he pulled away, he hid his face out of embarrassment, sniffing. She handed him a tissue and he wondered where the box had materialized from. But he huffed and wiped his face with it.

“Thank you,” he told her. “For... this.”

She nodded.

“You've been there for me.”

He frowned. He didn't recall ever doing this for her. But with the earnest look in her eyes, he believed her. It made him smile a little.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” She sat back on the couch and set the tissues aside. “I think,” she looked at the fireplace. “You're definitely not going to tell the PR representative that they were Hydra.”

He nodded after a moment with a scoff.

“Well... no.”

“You can mention that there were two men involved. It's scandalous, but we're already dealing with something scandalous so...” She shrugged. “Believe it or not, people like scandal.”

Steve chuckled and shook his head.

“I'm sure they do. But... probably not from me.”

“Even from you.” she gave him a look. “You'd be surprised. It shows you're human.”

He frowned, but nodded after a moment.

“I hope so.” He licked his lips. “I'm kind of relieved in a way. Is that weird?”

“Not really.”

“I don't... have to hide anymore. That I'm... into men.”

She nodded.

“Can I ask a question?”

He laughed softly. “Uh, sure.”

“Did you have a thing for Carter?”

He nodded, his cheeks heating. “I did.”

“So you could be bisexual.”

He shrugged. “I guess. We never...”

She tilted her head.

“Did you ever have sex with a girl?”

His face heated. He nodded.

“Once or twice.”

“Did you like it?”

“Well... yeah.”

'Who doesn't like sex?' he thought. He started to chuckle and she smiled.

“Just curious,” she said.

“Nosy,” he teased. She grinned.

“That too.”

She continued to rub his back in a circular motion. He relaxed into it, surprised at how tense his shoulders were. He almost wanted to close his eyes and fall asleep. Curl up with her.

No. He wasn't going to do that.

God, did he want to though. Steve realized he missed curling up to a body – between two warm bodies at night. But had he ever really just done that? Every time he'd been with Jack and Brock it had always been about fucking. They might have passed out together afterward, but...

He blinked against the tears that threatened to come to the surface.

“Steve,” she murmured. He blinked rapidly and sniffed.

“S-sorry,” he said, wiping at his nose with the tissue again. “I um... Just...” he swallowed, trying to get the words out. “I'm sorry.”

“It's okay. It's not your fault.”

“Yeah it is,” he laughed weakly. “I let them... I trusted them-”

“They abused that trust.”

He wanted to argue with her. Wanted to fight about that word – abused. Steve wasn't some helpless woman. He'd read on BDSM and he knew that people could be abusive to men too, but...

The more he thought about it, the more he realized that maybe Natasha was right about one thing – they had taken advantage of his trust.

But Steve was stupid for giving it to them in the first place.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will feature more Sam and a scene with Steve meeting with PR about the whole thing.


	9. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Steve struggles to admit that he needs help, Sam gives him a shoulder to lean on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so horrible because it took me a YEAR to update this. There's no excuse!  
> Rest assured I have more written for this and it will be posted! And I mean before the end of this year!  
> I don't know if I'll finish the fic before then, but I aim to try!

Steve felt drained after his talk with Natasha. He'd finally broken down and told her everything. How they'd tied him up. How they'd toyed with him – played games with his head. How they revealed they were Hydra then pretended it was just a joke, then refused to let him leave. How he'd submitted.

That hurt the worst – confessing that and he was grateful that she hadn't been looking at him then.

He was leaning forward as he told her, looking at the floor. But she had a right to know he was weak. He was a traitor.

“They had you captive and messed with your mind,” she sounded almost grieved, wounded. “Anyone would have broken under that.”

He shook his head again. Not Bucky. Steve was willing to bet they'd had to wipe him before...

He'd gasped, his heart seizing as he thought of what they must have done to Bucky. When she asked him what was wrong, he'd simply said “What did they do to him? To Bucky?”

She just sighed and rubbed his shoulder with a hand. Then she sat by him and gave him a half hug. It was nice. He'd been tense at first, but it was Natasha, so he relaxed after a while. He'd thanked her with a hoarse voice and she gave him a glass of water. She gave him Kleenex to wipe his face and nose. He was so embarrassed, crying and carrying on, but she didn't say anything.

He drank the whole glass of water she'd handed him and thanked her. She'd given him a gentle smile, rare on her face.

He didn't tell her about his memories of the metal hand. He told her about the wipe and waking up confused in his apartment. He told her about the missing texts, the missing pages in his diary, and his suspicions, his belief that it might all just be nightmares or his own imaginings.

“I think you should tell PR that they were Hydra,” she began. “Tell them you initially entered the relationship voluntarily but you had no idea they were Hydra.”

He nodded. “Of course. How could I have known?”

“You couldn't have.” She gave him a look that made him feel warm and sheepish at the same time. “You should also tell them how it ended.”

Steve sighed.

“That they wouldn't... let me leave?”

“And that they altered your memory. Is it possible you were drugged at any time?”

He nodded. “I think so. After they... told me about Hydra.” The thought of needles made his skin feel tight.

“Do you want me to come with you tomorrow?”

He thought about it. He started to nod, then shook his head. She raised her eyebrows at him. He smiled, almost amused.

“Sure,” he gave her a grateful look. “That'd... that'd help.”

She nodded. “Moral support.”

He'd chuckled at that.

“Moral. Right. I'm very moral.”

“You are a good person,” she put her hand on his shoulder. When he exhaled hard, she squeezed his shoulder and he looked at her.

“You're a good man, Steve,” her eyes gazed into his, insistent. His chest ached and then he found it hard to speak. He let her pull him into a hug.

 

As soon as he got back to his own suite, he found Sam with a bowl of popcorn.

“C'mon man. I'm thinkin' we need to institute movie night.”

Steve sighed. He was drained after that conversation, but...

“C'mon. Sit down and watch this show with me. I know you're gonna like it.”

Steve rolled his eyes and sat down with a small smile. On the tv was Project Runway.

“Oh God, not this mess again!”

Sam laughed and pushed the popcorn bowl to him. “Come on. I know you like making fun of the designs.”

“Well only because they're so awful.” He fished out some popcorn and began to nibble before handing it back to Sam who took it and grabbed some. “Not all of them,” he amended

Sam gestured to the drinks before them on the table – sodas – and Steve picked up a large cup of soda to sip from.

He enjoyed the rest of the evening, shaking his head and gesturing at the tv as he loudly complained about some of the designs and Sam laughed.

 

* * *

 

 

The good mood didn't last. The next morning he woke up sweating and kicking again around three in the morning, a scream trapped in his throat. The worst part wasn't the sweating though.

It was the fact that his bed was wet when he woke up and he smelled urine.

He'd pissed himself. Like a _child._

His face heated as he fumbled out of the sweatpants and underwear he slept in and yanked the sheets off the bed. Wrapping them all up together, he took them into the bathroom with him. He took a quick shower and changed into fresh sweatpants and a t shirt before hauling the damp clothes and sheets to the washing machine. Thank God he had a washing machine and dryer in the suite. He would have died of embarrassment if Sam had found out about this.

He noted the time and sighed. Might as well get up, really. He didn't think he could go back to sleep.

He contemplated coffee but realized he was shaking too badly for it already. He made tea instead – as quietly as possible, then sat with the mug of tea and one of his sketchbooks in front of him on the table.

When he opened it, he saw the sketch of Jack Rollins that he'd tucked into it. He almost closed it quickly again out of impulse.

He stared at the sketch for a moment, the images of his nightmare returning to him.

_He'd been trapped, lying down, his arms tied above him. In the dream, Bucky was washing his body with warm water. It felt so good when Bucky washed between his legs and he'd been aching for more._

_Then he heard laughter and Brock was there, filming him, asking him how he'd like the world to see this. Jack Rollins was standing over him too._

“ _What are they gonna say?” He laughed._

_Steve's nipples were pierced and Bucky was tugging wires attached to the piercings, pulling them tight, making him groan. Bucky just looked down at him with the same, blank expression. Then Brock was goading him on and his metal fist was choking Steve, holding his neck tightly. The fist released him only to rise and strike his face over and over..._

Steve shuddered at the memory. He rubbed a hand over his chest self consciously. He'd felt good enough last night to sleep without a shirt on.

He recalled nights he'd slept naked during summers in Brooklyn, Bucky's body not far away.

Steve blinked and refocused his attention on the sketch.

When had been the last time he'd drawn anything?

He folded the sketch of Jack Rollins, feeling disturbed by the way the man's eyes seemed to follow him, and put it in the back of the sketchbook. Somehow he couldn't bring himself to shred the sketch in half, even if he wanted to.

Then he found himself doodling a picture of Sam, wearing a Hawaiian shirt. It made him smile a little.

 

Sam got up around seven and Steve already had breakfast going. The sketch of Sam in the Hawaiian shirt was sort of cartoony so Steve left it on the table. The man picked it up and began to laugh.

“Nice.” He said.

Steve smiled at him.

“You sleep good?”

Steve nodded, shrugging a little. “Fine.”

“Mm.” Sam went to grab plates and set the table while Steve tended the fried eggs. He made Sam's just like the man liked them – a little runny. Then he was serving the sausages, eggs, and hashbrowns on each plate. He served himself a little bit less – he wasn't feeling too hungry. He'd nibbled earlier on a protein bar.

“You sure that's enough for you?” Sam teased. Steve rolled his eyes and gave Sam a look.

“I'm sure it's fine,” he said. “There's plenty more if I'm still hungry.”

Breakfast passed pretty cheerfully with Sam saying he'd have to show the drawing to his mom when they went to her house for dinner. Steve blushed and shook his head.

“No,” he groaned as Sam laughed. “It's not that good.”

“It's amazing,” Sam eyed the drawing fondly. Steve's face burned and he shook his head, polishing off the hashbrowns.

“I'm going to the gym,” he said as soon as he was done. “And then I have the meeting with Pepper and the PR rep. Natasha's going to be with me.”

“That's good,” Sam nodded. “I'll go with you to the gym.”

Steve tried to think of a way to say that he wanted some alone time but Sam wouldn't exactly be hovering in the gym and they'd probably be on different machines anyway. He nodded.

“Sounds good.”

 

“Steve? Steve.”

He blinked open his eyes and stared directly up at the ceiling. Someone was gently shaking his shoulder. Then he groaned.

“Steve?”

“Mmm. I'm fine.” He licked his lips, then his face flushed as he saw the very skeptical look on Sam's face.

Right. Because he'd passed out while exercising in the tower gym. He'd started to feel faint as he was working on the punching bags, then decided to sit down on a bench.

He had, apparently, fallen off the bench and was lying on the floor. He realized his head had been propped up with something – a towel.

The airman kneeled beside him, looking down with concern in his dark eyes. Steve started to sit up when Sam pressed a hand to his chest gently.

“Whoa, hold on. Just take it easy for a moment.”

Steve's whole body seized at the warmth and he barely suppressed a gasp. His face heated as he looked up at Sam who froze.

“Sorry,” he pulled his hand back. Steve felt the smallest wave of regret at its loss.

“It's fine,” he forced himself to smile a little and leaned back down. He lifted his head in surprise as Sam patted the towel underneath Steve's head.

“Thanks.”

“Here's some water,” he set a water bottle down next to Steve. “Just wait a few moments, okay? Then when you feel like it, roll onto your side. Then sit up.”

“Yeah, sure,” Steve kept glancing away, blinking, refusing to meet Sam's eyes for long. The last time he'd been lying on his back with his legs up like this...

His brain decided to be an asshole and superimpose the image of Sam, between his legs, the both of them nude.

'Oh god, shut up,' he thought. He lifted his knees, carefully, bending them so that the soles of his shoes were flat against the floor.

“Sorry,” Sam said and instead of crouching, moved to sit cross legged.

Steve slowly rolled over onto his side.

“It's fine. Really.”

“Have you been eating?”

Steve froze. Then he forced another smile.

“Well, yeah,” he chuckled. “I mean you've seen me eating, Sam. You know I can't go long without it.”

“It's just that you threw up earlier - after breakfast,” Sam raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I heard. And you didn't eat much breakfast yesterday either. You were kind of faint then too, I recall.”

Steve's lips worked. Then he let out a chuckle as he began to sit up, shaking his head. He almost swayed as another spell of diziness came over him but he ignored it, reaching for the water.

“I'm fine, Sam. I just... I've been stressed is all.”

“You've been having trouble eating much lately. Even before the news came out.”

Steve sighed and rolled his eyes, but kept smiling a little as he raised the bottle of water to his lips.

“Really, Sam. You're such a worry wart sometimes. I appreciate it, but-”

“You have an advanced metabolism – four times the-”

“Usual person, yes I know,” Steve smiled at him, feeling genuinely amused now. “I realize that, Sam.”

Sam's face was somber. “You've barely eaten as much as I eat lately.”

Steve tried to joke. “Well you're a big guy, for someone who doesn't have a serum, Sam. We both know how much-”

“Steve.” Sam's eyes were gentle but stern and something in the blonde's stomach dropped.

“Okay,” he said and lowered his eyes. Sam was right. Steve took a long drink of water, then coughed a little. “Sorry,” he smiled sheepishly when Sam thumped in on the back with a hand.

“It's fine. Let's get you on the couch, okay?”

“No, I need to get up and finish,” Steve started to stand, but nearly fell over when he stumbled. He closed his eyes and groaned. His head felt heavy and-

 

_He looked up. Bucky was plowing into him, hard and fast. Giving him exactly what he'd wanted for so long. But Steve felt sick, nauseated._

“No!” he lashed out, stumbling backward, and landed against the wall. Sam had flinched back, arms covering his face. Steve had thrown the water bottle and it splashed him.

“I'm... I'm sorry...” he said weakly. Tears welled up in his eyes and his breath was caught in his chest.

No. No no no...

_His naked, sticky body as Bucky plowed into him – loving it despite the ache because Bucky was there._

_Alive and real, even if he didn't recognize Steve and Steve had to call him-_

“It's okay, Steve,” Sam's eyes were calm as he lowered his arms. Ignoring the water on his shirt, he stood and walked over, offering a hand slowly.

Steve had almost flinched when he held out a hand. The blond felt ashamed of his reaction. He looked down and rubbed at his face with his other hand, then up at the hand Sam was offering.

“Sorry,” he smiled weakly as he took the hand and let Sam help him up.

He nearly swayed again and grunted as the other man helped him to stand. Sam was right. He felt so woozy.

Sam's hand was feeling his forehead and at first, Steve tensed, but then it felt nice. He relaxed into the touch with a sigh, closing his eyes.

“Steve?”

“I'm fine,” he murmured. He was so tired of saying that, really. “It's okay, Sam,” he forced his eyes open. “Still thirsty,” he said then laughed softly. “Sorry about the water...”

“ It's okay. I'm gonna get you another bottle, okay? I want you to relax a bit,” Sam led him to some sofas over by the doorway to the gym and helped him relax against one. It was very cushy and Steve practically sank into it. “Here... let's get you a blanket.”

Steve didn't protest. He was trembling, so he gladly accepted the blanket Sam found laying over the back of another sofa nearby. He rested his head back against the couch he was on with a soft groan. His cheeks flushed when he felt Sam tucking the blanket up around his shoulders. At the same time it made his stomach feel warm.

He really did want more of Sam's touch.

Honestly what was wrong with him? Swooning like some kind of fair maiden in a medieval knight's tale. He chuckled weakly and looked up at Sam who was now walking to the bar in the gym. The 'bar' was really just a sort of kitchen where there was a fridge stocked with water bottles, and a blender on the counter. Steve had seen Natasha and Clint make smoothies there before.

He watched as the other man grabbed another bottle of water, then hurried back to the sofas. Sam sat next to him and offered him the water. Steve lifted his hand – surprised at how weak his arm felt – and reached for it, but Sam held up a hand.

“It's all right. Let me.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. Then he chuckled.

“Sam.”

The other man raised a dark eyebrow at him and his face heated again. He looked down at the bottle.

“Okay.”

The bottle was pushed to his lips and he drank from it, feeling the heat rising up his cheeks. He gasped softly when it was pulled away. His heart was fluttering in his stomach and he wanted to kick himself.

'Calm down, it's just Sam.'

He really was desperate, wasn't he? He nearly shuddered as he could almost hear Jack's voice.

Steve closed his eyes tightly and his jaw twitched.

“Steve?”

“I'm fine,” he said, thinking 'Damn you. Damn you, Rollins you fucking son of a bitch.' “This is all my fault,” he said, forcing his eyes open to glare at the coffee table in front of the sofas. “I allowed this to happen to myself.”

“Steve-”

“No, Sam,” he turned his head, his eyes, to meet the other man's gaze, and flashes of circles appeared in his vision. He closed his eyes and groaned again. Son of a bitch.

“Just stay here for a minute, okay? I'm gonna call medical.”

“No,” Steve whined, then felt his face heat again at the sound of his own voice. He opened his eyes and looked pleadingly at Sam.

“You're sick, Steve,” Sam said, giving him a pleading look of his own. It was unusual for Sam and something dropped in Steve's stomach again. If Sam was giving him that look then things were really...

He choked back the sob that threatened to escape. Bucky. Bucky had been there-

No. _Yasha_.

That was what they'd insisted he call Bucky. Bucky had... Bucky had fucked him. They might have videos or pictures...

He closed his eyes and sagged, tears trailing down his cheeks silently as he began to shake.

“Steve,” Sam's voice had softened and there was a hand on his shoulder. He shook his head.

“Please, don't,” he begged. “Please don't say anything. I'm so sorry,” he shook his head again and lifted a hand to wipe at his face, to hide his eyes. He began to shake harder as he cried. Sam was silent for a while, gently squeezing Steve's shoulder.

It felt good, that simple touch. It warmed him inside, in all of the cold spaces left behind by...

He sobbed and leaned toward Sam before he could stop himself. Sam immediately responded, taking Steve into his arms and murmuring softly to him.

“Here. Come here,” he scooted closer and Steve leaned into him, pressing him against the sofa. He felt so stupid and so weak. But Sam was warm and his arms were strong. When he pressed Steve's forehead to the juncture between his neck and shoulder and his fingers rested against the back of the blonde's head and neck, it felt like heaven.

Steve sagged against him, trembling. His body wanted to fight, to flee, but he knew he could trust Sam.

'It's okay,' he told himself. 'You can trust Sam. He won't hurt you.'

He sagged further and let out a soft groan.

“I'm so sorry.”

“Shh,” Sam rubbed the back of his neck and upper back. Steve trembled against him, letting his eyes close. He felt so bad for getting Sam's shirt wet. “I've got you.”

It was so good there, so warm against Sam. Finally, he didn't want to fight anymore. He couldn't. Sam could have just rolled him over, Steve realized, and he would let him. Held him down, do whatever he liked. He shivered at the thought and his throat tightened. He wasn't ready for that yet.

But this – letting Sam comfort him. This he could do.

“You have to eat, Steve. You're getting weaker,” Sam said. “I don't want to see you end up in the hospital.”

Steve's lips turned up at one corner weakly.

“I know. I'm so sorry, Sam.”

“Hey, it's okay. You went through something rough. Nobody expects you to just...” Sam swallowed and Steve frowned, opening his eyes.

“Sam?”

“You've been through a lot, Steve,” Sam's eyes were wet when their gazes met. Steve's heart sank.

“Oh, god, Sam no-”

“Listen to me,” Sam said, his hand gently cupping Steve's cheek. Another shiver passed down Steve's spine and his heart began to speed up. He tried not to lean into the touch, but it did cause him to relax.

“You went through a war, Steve. And then you lost your friend. And then you died.”

Steve opened his lips to argue. He'd gone to the SHIELD therapist. He'd passed the... the screening or whatever it was they called it.

“Sam, I'm-”

“I swear to god if you say I'm fine, I'm going to scream,” Sam said. Steve frowned at him, sitting up slightly.

“Now, wait a minute-”

“You wait a minute,” Sam's expression was weary now. “Steve, I knew you were stubborn. I knew that when I decided to stick by you on this. But you have got to take care of yourself and that includes,” he held up a hand when Steve opened his mouth to protest again. “That includes right here,” he tapped his own temple with a finger.

“What... what am I supposed to do, Sam?”

“You need help, Steve. You need to talk to a therapist. You have for a really long time.”

“I...” Steve shook his head. He didn't know how to argue.

“You were sexually assaulted by people you were in a relationship with.”

“I wasn't...” he shook his head again, but he found himself looking down. “Sam... I agreed to it-”

Sam was putting his face in his hand and sighing.

“Steve. You understand consent, right?”

“I do,” he said, suddenly annoyed. He leaned back and picked up the water bottle, thirstier than ever now. He took another swig, closing his eyes as he tilted his head back and trying to ignore the swaying of his brain.

He was so tired of feeling weak, feeling lost, feeling dizzy. He set the bottle down after drinking most of it, twisting the cap on it.

“Natasha gave me a whole talk about it last night,” he said, frowning.

“She told me. But she also told me-”

“You see, this is where it kind of gets aggravating,” Steve said, glaring. “I know you both care, but I really don't appreciate everyone talking behind my back.”

Sam just looked at him.

“You seem to think that consent means-”

“I know what consent means! I get it, okay? I get it, Sam,” his heart was beating faster and he looked down, ashamed. “I'm sorry.”

Sam didn't say anything for a few moments.

“I know they took... took advantage of me. I was stupid. I admit it.”

“You weren't stupid-”

“No, I was. I was naïve and I trusted people who didn't deserve it. But that still means I deserve what happened to me.”

“No, it doesn't,” Sam said and when Steve looked up at him with irritation, it melted immediately at the intensity of Sam's look. There was that firmness again, mixed with exasperation and …

He swallowed and looked away again.

“Thank you.”

Sam's hand rested on his shoulder once more and Steve's stomach twisted, but more pleasantly than it had earlier.

“I... I've seen people fall apart, man. I don't want to see that happen to you.”

He couldn't speak for a moment, couldn't trust himself to. Then he swallowed and nodded, looking up at Sam.

“Okay. Okay. I'll... I'll see a therapist if you think I should.”

“I do. I think it would help you to talk to somebody who's dealt with PTSD.”

“You have,” Steve pointed out, eyebrows rising. Then his face flushed. “I mean, you're my friend and I don't want you to have to deal-”

“Steve. It's not dealing to me.” Sam said. “I care about you.”

They looked at eachother for a moment, then both were smiling slightly and looking away.

“But a therapist is good because they're removed from the situation.”

Steve thought of the man he'd talked to at SHIELD and frowned. It had felt so cold and impersonal, this person asking him questions.

“What is it?”

“I... I don't know it just felt so weird the last time,” he chuckled. “At SHIELD.”

“It's weird at first. Telling somebody else about your problems. But I can help you find somebody good, somebody you can relate to.”

Steve nodded. It almost sounded like Sam was finding him a date though. He chuckled.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just... sounds like you're hooking me up with someone.”

“It sounds weird, but it can be like that, finding the right therapist. You don't have to commit to the first therapist you talk to. If you don't feel comfortable with them for whatever reason, it's fine to leave and find somebody else.”

“Oh, I know. Coulson told me that once,” he smiled a little, then sighed, the smile fading. He looked at Sam. “I'm tired of people dying,” he confessed. Then he blinked and looked away, embarrassed.

Sam nodded.

“Me too.”

Then Steve's heart twisted. “God, Sam. I'm so-”

“Don't. Say you're sorry,” Sam held up a finger, his lips quirking at one corner. “You have as much right to be sad as anybody else, Steve.”

“I think...” he didn't know how to say it. He swallowed, looking at the other man. Sam sat up.

“What is it?”

“I think...” he wanted to throw up, to run, to do anything rather than tell Sam the truth. “I think he was there too.”

Sam stared at him. Then his eyes move to the left, staring off as if in thought. Finally, his brows lifted and he looked back at Steve.

“Bucky. He was there.” Steve swallowed. He was so glad his stomach didn't start heaving again. He looked down at the bottle of water.

“Are you sure?”

Steve nodded, looking up at him. Sam looked like he wanted to ask a question but didn't know where to start.

 

There was a bloop from Steve's new phone and he picked it up. Natasha had texted him.

“It's almost time for the meeting,” he said, scooting to sit up.

“Just take a minute okay.”

“No. I already have,” Steve knew he was being irritable and childish but... he really needed to get to the meeting.

“Let me walk with you at least.”

Steve breathed in deeply. “Fine.”

Sam gave him a look and insisted on helping Steve stand by giving him a hand. The blonde tried to hold back his impatience. He hated being treated like an invalid. At the same time there was a warmth in his belly that he couldn't ignore at Sam gently removing the blanket from his shoulders.

“I should... get dressed.”

“You look fine.”

Steve frowned. He had his gym clothes on. Sam did too.

“I guess so,” he sighed. “I wasgoing to take a shower.”

“C'mon,” Sam gently slung an arm around his shoulder and guided him. “I'll help you get to the shower. But after this meeting – lunch!”

Steve bit back the urge to disagree. Sam was right. He needed to take better care of himself.

 

Pepper Potts was waiting with the representative and Natasha in the appointed office. Steve felt guilty tearing Pepper away from Malibu. She'd been there just the other day and she had to be exhausted.

The representative was a woman – slightly older than Pepper by appearance with short dark hair. She wore smart trousers and a suit jacket. Steve felt underdressed with his button up shirt and khakis. Thankfully Natasha was wearing jeans and a blouse with a brown leather jacket.

Steve smiled as he entered and took Pepper's hand for a moment, then shook the representative's hand.

“You've met Myra before,” Pepper noted.

“I have,” Steve nodded, shaking the woman's hand. She had a good firm grip and honest brown eyes.

“Captain,” she studied him for a moment. “Please sit down.”

“I'm sorry I'm a little late,” he said.

“It's fine,” the woman waved a hand.

“And this is Sam Wilson,” Pepper gestured. “Are you going to be joining us?”

“Nah,” Sam shook his head, glancing to Steve. “I don't want to crowd you guys.”

“It's fine,” Pepper shook her head. “You're welcome to join.”

“You can if you like,” Steve added when Sam looked to him. Sam shrugged and took a seat.

Myra handed Steve a packet of papers and he noticed Natasha was already holding the same one. “This is your agreement under the Avenger's Initiative - the one you signed with SHIELD after New York.”

“I noticed. SHIELD no longer exists,” Natasha noted.

“Right,” Myra said looking to Steve. “But some of the guidelines laid out here were put forth by our team. While I'm not interested in making you feel attacked, I would like to understand the circumstances that led to this leak seeing as you signed these forms and seemed to understand what the consequences would be if you stepped outside of the advised parameters.”

Pepper frowned, glancing to her, but didn't say anything.

Steve swallowed while Natasha gave Sam a look when he seemed about to speak. When Steve looked up at Myra, her eyebrows were raised as if she was waiting.

He took a breath and looked at the papers, flipping through them. He stopped at a highlighted section.

“Team members are advised to keep private relationships out of the public eye and to inform SHIELD and Stark's team of major changes...”

He remembered not really paying attention when he'd signed the form. Of course, he hadn't really expected to be in a relationship.

He looked up, blinking.

“I knew that it was a bad idea,” he admitted.

“A bad idea,” Myra repeated. “Captain, I'm not trying to make you feel bad. If we create a new agreement – which I would really like to do, by the way – I want everyone to be honest. Something tells me you didn't expect this to ever be an issue,” she shrugs. “Fine. You'd been through a lot. Maybe you didn't expect to be in a new relationship right away,” her lips quirked at the corner and Steve felt himself relax. “I want to help you and the Avengers get your PR back under control. But that means we all need to be on the same page and that means I need to know what's going on. In detail.”

Steve's relaxation seemed to fly away and he felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. He looked up at Myra and saw her brown eyes staring directly into his. He glanced at Pepper and found her expression sympathetic and encouraging.

He sighed.

“Well... what do you know so far?”

“I...” she huffed. “There's a lot in the media. Most of it is _speculation_ , so I'd like to hear _your_ perspective.”

He licked his lips.

“Okay...”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your comments and support! They are what encourages me to finish these fics! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, Steve.
> 
> Come throw rocks at me on
> 
> [Tumblr](http://merpuccino.tumblr.com/)


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